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Title: Travels in the East Indian archipelago
Author: Albert Smith Bickmore
Release date: April 14, 2024 [eBook #73398]
Language: English
Original publication: London: John Murray, 1868
Credits: Peter Becker and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from images generously made available by The Internet Archive)
*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK TRAVELS IN THE EAST INDIAN ARCHIPELAGO ***
[Illustration: WIVES OF ONE OF THE TWO HIGHEST PRINCES IN JAVA.]
TRAVELS
IN THE
EAST INDIAN ARCHIPELAGO.
BY ALBERT S. BICKMORE, M.A.,
FELLOW OF THE ROYAL GEOGRAPHICAL SOCIETY OF LONDON,
CORRESPONDING MEMBER OF THE AMERICAN AND LONDON ETHNOLOGICAL SOCIETIES,
NEW YORK LYCEUM OF NATURAL HISTORY, MEMBER OF THE BOSTON SOCIETY
OF NATURAL HISTORY AND AMERICAN ORIENTAL SOCIETY, AND
PROFESSOR OF NATURAL HISTORY IN MADISON
UNIVERSITY, HAMILTON, N. Y.
WITH MAPS AND ILLUSTRATIONS.
LONDON:
JOHN MURRAY, ALBEMARLE STREET.
1868.
_The right of Translation is reserved._
LONDON: PRINTED BY W. CLOWES AND SONS, DUKE STREET, STAMFORD STREET,
AND CHARING CROSS.
TO
THE GENEROUS FRIENDS OF SCIENCE
IN
BOSTON AND CAMBRIDGE,
THROUGH WHOSE LIBERALITY THE TRAVELS
HEREIN DESCRIBED WERE MADE,
THIS VOLUME
Is Respectfully Dedicated.
[Illustration: GOVERNMENT BUILDINGS AT BATAVIA.
_See page 30._]
PREFACE.
The object of my voyage to Amboina was simply to re-collect the shells
figured in Rumphius’s “Rariteit Kamer,” and the idea of writing a volume
of travels was not seriously entertained until I arrived at Batavia, and,
instead of being forbidden by the Dutch Government to proceed to the
Spice Islands, as some of my warmest friends feared, I was honored by His
Excellency, the Governor-General of “the Netherlands India,” with the
order given on page 40.
Having fully accomplished that object, I availed myself of the unexampled
facilities to travel afforded me in every part of the archipelago, and
all except the first six chapters describe the regions thus visited.
The narrative given has been taken almost entirely from my journal,
which was kept day by day with scrupulous care. Accuracy, even at
any sacrifice of elegance, has been aimed at throughout; and first
impressions are presented as modified by subsequent observation.
My sincerest thanks are herein expressed to the liberal gentlemen to
whom this volume is dedicated; to Baron Sloet van de Beele, formerly
Governor-General of the Netherlands India; to Mr. N. A. T. Arriens,
formerly Governor of the Moluccas; to Mr. J. F. R. S. van den Bosche,
formerly Governor of the West Coast of Sumatra; to the many officers of
the Netherlands Government, and to the Dutch and American merchants who
entertained me with the most cordial hospitality, and aided me in every
possible way throughout the East Indian Archipelago.
CAMBRIDGE, MASS., U. S. A., _Sept. 1, 1868_.
CONTENTS.
CHAPTER I.
THE STRAIT OF SUNDA AND BATAVIA.
Object of the Travels described in this volume—Nearing the
coast of Java—Balmy breezes of the Eastern Isles—King Æolus’s
favorite seat—A veil of rain—First view of Malays—Entering
the Java Sea—The Malay language—Early history of Java—Marco
Polo—Hinduism in Java—History of Batavia—The roadstead
of Batavia—The city of Batavia—Houses of Europeans—Mode
of cooking—Characteristics of the Malays—Collecting
butterflies—Visit Rahden Saleh—Attacked with a fever—Receive a
letter from the Governor-General 13-41
CHAPTER II.
SAMARANG AND SURABAYA.
Sail from Batavia for the Moluccas—My companions—Mount
Slamat—The north coast of Java—Mount Prau—Temples
at Boro Bodo and Brambanan—Samarang—Mohammedan
mosque—History of Mohammedanism—Mount Japara—The
Guevo Upas, or Valley of Poison—Gresik—Novel mode of
navigating mud-flats—Surabaya—Government dock-yard and
machine-shops—Zoological gardens—History of Hinduism—The
Klings—Excursion to a sugar plantation—Roads and telegraphic
routes in Java—Malay mode of gathering rice—The kinds of
sugar-cane 42-70
CHAPTER III.
THE FLORA AND FAUNA OF THE TROPICAL EAST.
Leave Surabaya for Macassar—Madura—The Sapi—Manufacture of
salt—The Tenger Mountains—The Sandy Sea—Eruptions of Mount
Papandayang and Mount Galunggong—Java and Cuba compared—The
forests of Java—Fauna of Java—The cocoa-nut palm—The
Pandanus—The banana—Tropical fruits—The mangostin—The
rambutan—mango—duku—durian—bread-fruit—Bali—Javanese
traditions—Limit between the fauna of Asia and that of
Australia—A plateau beneath the sea—Caste and suttee practices
on Bali 71-96
CHAPTER IV.
CELEBES AND TIMUR.
History of Celebes—De Barros—Diogo de Cauto—Head-hunters of
Celebes—The harbor of Macassar—Voyages of the Bugis—Skilful
diving—Fort Rotterdam—The Societeit, or Club—A drive into
the country—The tomb of a native merchant—Tombs of ancient
princes—Sail for Kupang, in Timur—Flying-fish—The Gunong Api in
Sapi Strait—Gillibanta—Sumbawa—Eruption of Mount Tomboro—The
Eye of the Devil—Floris and Sandal-wood Island—Kupang—Fruits
on Timur—Its barrenness and the cause of it—Different
kinds of people seen at Kupang—Human sacrifice—Purchasing
shells—Geology of the vicinity of Kupang—Sail for Dilli—Village
of Dilli—Islands north of Timur—The Bandas—Monsoons in the Java
and China Seas 97-129
CHAPTER V.
AMBOINA.
Description of the island and city of Amboina—Dutch
mode of governing the natives—A pleasant home—A
living nautilus is secured—Excursion to Hitu—Hassar
steering—History of the cocoa-tree—Indian corn—Hunting
in the tropics—Butterflies—Excursion along the shores
of Hitu for shells—Mode of travelling in the Spice
Islands—The pine-apple—Covered bridges—Hitu-lama—Purchasing
specimens—History of the Spice Islands—Enormous
hermit-crabs—An exodus—Assilulu—Babirusa shells from
Buru—Great curiosities—Jewels in the brains of snakes and
wild boars—Description of the clove-tree—History of the
clove-trade—Watched by the rajah’s wives—Lariki and Wakasihu—A
storm in the height of the southeast monsoon—Variety of native
dialects—Dangerous voyage by night—An earthquake—Excursion to
Tulahu 130-176
CHAPTER VI.
THE ULIASSERS AND CERAM.
The arrival of the mail at Amboina—The Uliassers—Chewing
the betel-nut and siri—Haruku—We strike on a reef—Saparua
Island, village, and bay—Nusalaut—Strange reception—An Eastern
banquet—Examining the native schools—Different classes of
natives—Yield of cloves in the Uliassers—Nullahia, Amet,
and Abobo—Breaking of the surf on the coral reefs—Tanjong
O—Travel by night—Ceram—Elpaputi Bay and Amahai—Alfura, or
head-hunters, come down from the mountains and dance before
us—Land on the south coast of Ceram—Fiendish revels of the
natives—Return to Saparua and Amboina 177-212
CHAPTER VII.
BANDA.
Governor Arriens invites me to accompany him to Banda—The
Gunong Api—Road of the Bandas—Banda Neira and its forts—Geology
of Lontar—The Bandas and the crater in the Tenger Mountains
compared—The groves of nutmeg-trees—The canari-tree—Orang
Datang—We ascend the volcano—In imminent peril—The
crater—Perilous descent—Eruptions of Gunong Api—Earthquakes
at Neira—Great extent of the Residency of Banda—The Ki and
Arru Islands—Return to Amboina—Geology of the island of
Amboina—Trade of Amboina—The grave of Rumphius—His history 213-252
CHAPTER VIII.
BURU.
Adieu to Amboina—North coast of
Ceram—Wahai—Buru—Kayéli—Excursions to various parts of
the bay—A home in the forests—Malay cuisine—Tobacco and
maize—Flocks of parrots—Beautiful birds—History of Buru—The
religion and laws of the Alfura—Shaving the head of a young
child—A wedding-feast—Marriage laws in Mohammedan countries—A
Malay marriage—Opium, its effects and its history—Kayu-puti
oil—Gardens beneath the sea—Roban—Skinning birds—Tropical
pests—A deer-hunt—Dinding—A threatening fleet—A page of
romance—A last glance at Buru 253-297
CHAPTER IX.
TERNATE, TIDORE, AND GILOLO.
Seasons in Ceram and Buru—Bachian and Makian—Eruptions
of Ternate—Magellan—Former monopolies—The bloodhounds of
Gilolo—Migrations—A birth-mark—The Molucca Passage—Malay
pirates—They challenge the Dutch 298-322
CHAPTER X.
THE NORTHERN PENINSULA OF CELEBES.
Mount Klabat—Kema—A hunt for babirusa—A camp by the
sea—Enormous snakes—From Kema to Menado—Eruption of Mount
Kemaas—Population of the Minahassa—Thrown from a horse—The
Bantiks—A living death—History of the coffee-tree—In the jaws
of a crocodile—The bay of Menado—Lake Linu—A grove by moonlight 323-355
CHAPTER XI.
THE MINAHASSA.
The waterfall of Tinchep—A mud-well—A boiling pool—The ancient
appearance of our earth—Lake Tondano—One of the finest views
in the world—Palm-wine—Graves of the natives—Christianity and
education—Tanjong Fiasco—Gold-mines in Celebes—The island of
Buton—Macassar—A raving maniac 356-383
CHAPTER XII.
SUMATRA.
Padang—Beautiful drives—Crossing the streams—The
cleft—Crescent-shaped roofs—Distending the lobe of
the ear—Cañons—The great crater of Manindyu—Immense
amphitheatres—Ophir—Gold-mines 384-406
CHAPTER XIII.
TO THE LAND OF THE CANNIBALS.
Valley of Bondyol—Monkeys—The orang-utan—Lubu Siképing—Tigers
and buffaloes—The Valley of Rau—A Batta grave—Riding along the
edge of a precipice—Twilight and evening—Padang Sidempuan—Among
the cannibals—Descent from the Barizan—The suspension bridge of
rattan—Ornaments of gold—The camphor-tree 407-434
CHAPTER XIV.
RETURN TO PADANG.
Bay of Tapanuli—The Devil’s Dwelling—Dangerous fording—Among
the Battas—Missionaries and their brides—The feasts of
the cannibals—The pepper trade—The English appear in the
East—Struck by a heavy squall—Ayar Bangis and Natal—The king’s
birthday—Malay ideas of greatness 435-457
CHAPTER XV.
THE PADANG PLATEAU.
Thunder and lightning in the tropics—Paya Kombo and the Bua
Valley—The Bua cave—Up the valley to Suka Rajah—Ancient
capitals of Menangkabau—The reformers of Korinchi—Malay mode
of making matchlocks—A simple meal—Geological history of the
plateau—The Thirteen Confederate Towns—The flanks of the
Mérapi—Natives of the Pagi Islands—Where the basin of the
Indian Ocean begins 458-485
CHAPTER XVI.
CROSSING SUMATRA.
Bay of Bencoolen—Rat Island—Loss of Governor Raffles’s
collection—A trap for tigers—Blood-suckers—Pits for the
rhinoceros—virgin children—Plateau of the Musi—From Kopaiyong
to Kaban Agong—Natives destroyed by tigers—Sumatra’s wealth—The
Anak gadis—Troops of monkeys—From Tebing Tingi to Bunga Mas—We
come upon an elephant—Among tigers—The Pasuma people—Horseback
travel over—The land of game 486-520
CHAPTER XVII.
PALEMBANG, BANCA, AND SINGAPORE.
Mount Dempo—Rafts of cocoa-nuts—Floating down the
Limatang—Cotton—From Purgatory to Paradise—Palembang—The
Kubus—Banca—Presented with a python—The python escapes—A
struggle for life—Sail for China 521-542
APPENDIX A. Area of the principal islands, according to Baron
van Carnbée 543
” B. Population of the Netherlands India, 1865 543
” C. A table of heights of the principal mountains in
the archipelago 544
” D. Coffee sold by the government at Padang 545
” E. Trade of Java and Madura during 1864 546
” F. A list of the birds collected by the author on
the island of Buru 547
INDEX 549
[Illustration: “SAPIE” OXEN FROM MADURA.
_See page 68._]
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS.
Wives of one of the great Princes of Java (from a Photograph)
_Frontispiece_
Poultry Vender, Batavia ” _Page_ 27
Government Buildings in Batavia ” 4
Sapis, or oxen from Madura ” 11
Javanese and family ” 33
Rahden Saleh ” 37
Rahden Saleh’s Palace ” 37
Watering the streets, Java ” 49
A Tandu ” 49
A Kling 63
A Native of Beloochistan (from a Photograph) 63
Fruit-Market ” 89
The Pinang, or Betel-nut Palm (from a Drawing by Rahden Saleh) 180
After the bath (from a Photograph) 182
Musical Instruments of the Malays (Batavia) 191
Dyak, or Head-hunter of Borneo (from a Photograph) 206
Landing through the Surf on the south coast of Ceram (from a Sketch) 209
The Lontar Palm 220
Ascent of the Volcano of Banda—saved by a fern (from a Sketch) 234
A Jungle 261
A Malay Opium-smoker (from a Photograph) 281
The Gomuti Palm (from a Sketch) 370
The Bamboo 374
Approach to the Cleft near Padang 390
Women of Menangkaban 395
Scene in the interior of Sumatra 404
Driving round a dangerous Bluff 419
Suspension Bridge of rattan 428
Native of Nias 445
Natives of the Pagi Islands 482
Singapore 521
River Scene in Sumatra, on the Limatang 525
Natives of Palembang } 530
Palembang—high water }
Killing a Python 541
Map of Sumatra _To face page_ 384
Tomb of the Sultan—Palembang 546
Map of the Eastern Archipelago _at the end_
TRAVELS IN THE EAST INDIAN ARCHIPELAGO.
CHAPTER I.
THE STRAIT OF SUNDA AND BATAVIA.
On the 19th of April, 1865, I was fifty miles east of Christmas Island,
floating on the good ship “Memnon” toward the Strait of Sunda.
I was going to Batavia, to sail thence to the Spice Islands, which lie
east of Celebes, for the purpose of collecting the beautiful shells of
those seas.
I had chosen that in preference to any other part of the world, because
the first collection of shells from the East that was ever described
and figured with sufficient accuracy to be of any scientific value was
made by Rumphius, a doctor who lived many years at Amboina, the capital
of those islands. His great work, the “Rariteit Kamer,” or Chamber of
Curiosities, was published in 1705, more than sixty years before the
twelfth edition of the “Systema Naturæ” was issued by Linnæus, “the
Father of Natural History,” who referred to the figures in that work to
illustrate a part of his own writings. When Holland became a province
of France, in 1811, and it was designed to make Paris the centre of
science and literature in Europe, it is said that this collection was
taken from Leyden to that city, and afterward returned, and that during
these two transfers a large proportion of the specimens disappeared; and
that, finally, what was left of this valuable collection was scattered
through the great museum at Leyden. It was partly to restore Rumphius’s
specimens, and partly to bring into our own country such a standard
collection, that I was going to search myself for the shells figured in
the “Rariteit Kamer,” on the very points and headlands, and in the very
bays, where Rumphius’s specimens were found.
As we neared the coast of Java, cocoa-nuts and fragments of sea-washed
palms, drifting by, indicated our approach to a land very different at
least from the temperate shores we had left behind; and we could in
some degree experience Columbus’s pleasure, when he first saw the new
branch and its vermilion berries. Strange, indeed, must be this land to
which we are coming, for here we see snakes swimming on the water, and
occasionally fragments of rock drifting over the sea. New birds also
appear, now sailing singly through the sky, and now hovering in flocks
over certain places, hoping to satisfy their hungry maws on the small
fishes that follow the floating driftwood. Here it must be that the
old Dutch sailors fabled could be seen the tree—then unknown—that bore
that strange fruit, the double cocoa-nut. They always represented it as
rising up from a great depth and spreading out its uppermost leaves on
the surface of the sea. It was guarded by a bird, that was not bird but
half beast; and when a ship came near, she was always drawn irresistibly
toward this spot, and not one of her ill-fated crew ever escaped the beak
and formidable talons of this insatiable harpy.
But such wonders unfortunately fade away before the light of advancing
knowledge; and the prince of Ceylon, who is said to have given a whole
vessel laden with spice for a single specimen, could have satisfied
his heart’s fullest desire if he had only known it was not rare on the
Seychelles, north of Mauritius.
The trades soon became light and baffling. Heavy rain-squalls, with
thunder and lightning, were frequent; and three days after, as one of
these cleared away, the high mountain near Java Head appeared full a
quarter of a degree above the horizon, its black shoulders rising out of
a beautiful mantle of the ermine-white, fleecy clouds, called _cumuli_.
Although we were thirty-five miles from the shore, yet large numbers of
dragon-flies came round the ship, and I quickly improvised a net and
captured a goodly number of them.
After sunset, there was a light air off-shore, which carried us to within
a few miles of the land, and at midnight the captain called me on deck to
enjoy “the balmy breezes of the Eastern isles;” and certainly to myself,
as well as to the others, the air seemed to have the rich fragrance of
new-mown clover, but far more spicy. At that hour it was quite clear, but
at sunrise a thick haze rose up from the ocean, and this phenomenon was
repeated each morning that we were trying to enter the Strait of Sunda.
As we had arrived during the changing of the monsoons, calms were so
continuous that for six days we tried in vain to gain fifty miles. When
a breeze would take us up near the mouth of the channel, it would then
die away and let a strong current sweep us away to the east, and one time
we were carried most unpleasantly near the high, threatening crags at
Palembang Point, near Java Head. Those who have passed Sunda at this time
of the year, or Ombay Strait in the beginning of the opposite monsoon,
will readily recall the many weary hours they have passed waiting for
a favorable breeze to take them only a few miles farther on their long
voyage.
During those six days, at noon the sun poured down his hottest rays,
the thermometer ranging from 88° to 90° Fahr. in the shade, and not the
slightest air moving to afford a momentary relief. Although constantly
for a year I was almost under the equator, these six days were the most
tedious and oppressive I ever experienced.
The mountain back of Java Head seemed to be King Eolus’s favorite seat.
Clouds would come from every quarter of the heavens and gather round its
summit, while the sun was reaching the zenith; but soon after he began to
pass down the western sky, lightnings would be seen darting their forked
tongues around the mountain-crest: and then, as if the winds had broken
from the grasp of their king, thick cloud-masses would suddenly roll
down the mountain-sides, lightnings dart hither and thither, and again
and again the thunders would crash and roar enough to shake the very
firmament.
We are not alone. Six or eight vessels are also detained here—for this
Strait of Sunda is the great gate through which pass out most of the
valuable teas and costly silks of China and Japan, and these ships
are carrying cotton goods to those lands to exchange in part for such
luxuries. On the evening of the sixth day a more favorable breeze took us
slowly up the channel past a group of large rocks, where the unceasing
swell of the ocean was breaking, and making them sound in the quiet night
like the howling and snarling of some fierce monster set to guard the way
and unable to prevent his expected prey from escaping.
With the morning came a fine breeze, and, as we sailed up the strait,
several small showers passed over the mountains, parallel to the shore,
on the Java side; and once a long cloud rested its ends on two mountains,
and unfolded from its dark mass a thin veil of sparkling rain, through
which we could see quite distinctly all the outlines and the bright-green
foliage of the valley behind it. The highly-cultivated lands near the
water, and on the lower declivities of the mountains, whose tops were one
dense mass of perennial green, made the whole view most enchanting to me;
but our captain (who was a Cape Cod man) declared that the sand-hills
on the outer side of Cape Cod were vastly more charming to him. On the
shallows, near the shore, the clear sea-water took a beautiful tint of
emerald green in the bright sunlight, and here we passed long lines of
cuttle-fish bones and parts of mysterious fruits where the tides met,
that were setting in different directions.
Nearly all the islands in the strait are steep, volcanic cones, with
their bases beneath the sea; the bright-green foliage on their sides
forming an agreeable contrast with the blue ocean at their feet when the
waves roll away before a strong breeze; but when it is calm, and the
water reflects the light, as from a polished mirror, they appear like
gigantic emeralds set in a sea of silver.
As we approached Angir, where ships bound to and from China frequently
stop for fresh provisions, we saw, to our great alarm, a steamship! Was
it the pirate Shenandoah, and was our ship to be taken and burnt there,
almost at the end of our long voyage? I must confess that was what we all
feared till we came near enough to see the “Stars and Stripes” of the
loyal flag of our native land.
Here many Malays paddled off in their canoes to sell us fruit. We watch
the approach of the first boat with a peculiar, indescribable interest.
It contains two young men, who row. They are dressed in trousers and
jackets of calico, with cotton handkerchiefs tied round their heads.
This is the usual dress throughout the archipelago, except that, instead
of the trousers or over them, is worn the _sarong_, which is a piece of
cotton cloth, two yards long by a yard wide, with the two shorter sides
sewn together, so as to make a bag open at the top and bottom. The men
draw this on over the body, and gather it on the right hip; the loose
part is then twisted, and tucked under the part passing around the body,
so as to form a rude knot. There is a man in the stern, sitting with
his feet under him, steering the canoe, and at the same time helping it
onward with his paddle. He is dressed in a close-fitting red shirt? No!
He is not encumbered with any clothing except what Nature has provided
for him, save a narrow cloth about his loins, the usual working-costume
of the coolies, or poorer classes. He brings several kinds of bananas,
green cocoa-nuts, and the “pompelmus,” which is a gigantic orange, from
six to eight inches in diameter. He seems perfectly happy, and talks with
the most surprising rapidity. From an occasional word that may be half
English, we suppose, like traders in the Western world, he is speaking in
no moderate manner of the value of what he has to sell.
Mount Karang, back of Angir, now comes into view, raising its crest of
green foliage to a height of five thousand feet; a light breeze takes us
round Cape St. Nicholas, the northwest extremity of Java. It is a high
land, with sharp ridges coming down to the water, thus forming a series
of little rocky headlands, separated by small sandy bays. These, as we
sail along, come up, and open to our view with a most charming panoramic
effect. Near the shore a few Malays are seen on their _praus_, or large
boats, while others appear in groups on the beaches, around their canoes,
and only now and then do we catch glimpses of their rude houses under the
feathery leaves of the cocoa-nut palm.
We are in the Java Sea. It seems very strange after being pitched and
tossed about constantly for more than a hundred days, thus to feel our
ship glide along so steadily; and after scanning the horizon by the hour,
day after day, hoping to be able to discern one vessel, and so feel
that we had at least one companion on “the wide waste of waters,” now
to see land on every side, and small boats scattered in all directions
over the quiet sea. That night we anchored near Babi Island, on a bottom
of very soft, sticky clay, largely composed of fragments of shells and
coral. A boat came off from the shore, and, as the coxswain could speak a
little English, I took my first lesson in Malay, the common language, or
_lingua franca_, of the whole archipelago. As it was necessary, at least,
that I should be able to talk with these natives if I would live among
them, and purchase shells of them, it was my first and most imperative
task, on reaching the East, to acquire this language. The Malay spoken
at Batavia, and at all the Dutch ports and posts in the islands to
the east, differs very much from the high or pure Malay spoken in the
Menangkabau country, in the interior of Sumatra, north of Padang, whence
the Malays originally came: after passing from island to island, they
have spread over all Malaysia, that is, the great archipelago between
Asia, Australia, and New Guinea. Perhaps of all languages in the world,
the low or common Malay is the one most readily acquired. It contains no
harsh gutturals or other consonants that are difficult to pronounce. It
is soft and musical, and somewhat resembles the Italian in its liquid
sounds; and one who has learned it can never fail to be charmed by the
nice blending of vowels and consonants whenever a word is pronounced in
his presence. The only difficult thing in this language is, that words
of widely different meaning sometimes are so similar that, at first, one
may be mistaken for another. Every European in all the Netherlands India
speaks Malay. It is the only language used in addressing servants; and
all the European children born on these islands learn it from their Malay
nurses long before they are able to speak the language of their parents.
Such children generally find it difficult to make the harsh, guttural
sounds of the Dutch language, and the Malays themselves are never able to
speak it well; and, for the same reason, Dutchmen seldom speak Malay as
correctly as Englishmen and Frenchmen.
We are now off the ancient city of Bantam, and we naturally here review
the voyages of the earliest European navigators in these seas, and the
principal events in the ancient history of this rich island of Java.
The word Java, or, more correctly, “Jawa,” is the name of the people who
originally lived only in the eastern part of the island, but, in more
modern times, they have spread over the whole island, and given it their
name. The Chinese claim to have known it in ancient times, and call it
Chi-po or Cha-po, which is as near Jawa as their pronunciation of most
foreign names at the present day.
It was first made known to the Western world by that great traveller,
Marco Polo, in his description of the lands he saw or passed while on
his voyage from China to the Persian Gulf, in the latter part of the
thirteenth century. He did not see it himself, but only gathered accounts
in regard to it from others. He calls it Giaua, and says it produces
cloves and nutmegs, though we know now that they were all brought to Java
from the Spice Islands, farther to the east. In regard to gold, he says
it yielded a quantity “exceeding all calculation and belief.” This was
also probably brought from other islands, chiefly from Sumatra, Borneo,
and Celebes.
In 1493, one year after the discovery of America by Columbus, Bartholomew
Dias, a Portuguese, discovered the southern extremity of Africa, which
he called the Cape of Storms, but which his king said should be named
the Cape of Good Hope, because it gave a _good hope_ that, at last, they
had discovered a way to India by sea. Accordingly, the next year, this
king[1] sent Pedro da Covilham and Alfonso de Payva directly to the east
to settle this important question. From Genoa they came to Alexandria
in the guise of travelling merchants, thence to Cairo, and down the Red
Sea to Aden. Here they separated—Payva to search for “Prester John,” a
Christian prince, said to be reigning in Abyssinia over a people of high
cultivation; and Covilham to visit the Indies, it having been arranged
that they should meet again at Cairo or Memphis. Payva died before
reaching the principal city of Abyssinia, but Covilham had a prosperous
journey to India, where he made drawings of the cities and harbors,
especially of Goa and Calicut (Calcutta), and marked their positions on
a map given him by King John of Portugal. Thence he returned along the
coast of Persia to Cape Guardafui, and continued south to Mozambique and
“Zofala,” where he ascertained that that land joined the Cape of Good
Hope, and thus was the first man who _knew_ that it was possible to sail
from Europe to India. From Zofala he returned to Abyssinia, and sent his
diary, charts, and drawings to Genoa by some Portuguese merchants who
were trading at Memphis.
On receiving this news, King Emanuel, who had succeeded King John, sent
out, during the following year, 1495, four ships under Vasco di Gama, who
visited Natal and Mozambique; in 1498 he was at Calcutta, and in 1499
back at Lisbon.
In 1509 the Portuguese, under Sequiera, first came into the archipelago.
During the next year Alfonso Albuquerque visited Sumatra, and in 1511
took the Malay city Malacca, and established a military post from which
he sent out Antonio d’Abreu to search for the Spice Islands. On his way
eastward, D’Abreu touched at Agasai (Gresik) on Java.
In 1511 the Portuguese visited Bantam, and two years later Alvrin was
sent from Malacca with four vessels to bring away a cargo of spices from
a ship wrecked on the Java coast while on her way back from the Spice
Islands.
Ludovico Barthema was the first European who described Java from personal
observation. He remained on it fourteen days, but his descriptions
are questionable in part, for he represents parents as selling their
children, to be eaten by their purchasers, and himself as quitting the
island in haste for fear of being made a meal of.
In 1596 the Dutch, under Houtman, first arrived off Bantam, and, finding
the native king at war with the Portuguese, readily furnished him with
assistance against their rivals, on his offering to give them a place
where they could establish themselves and commence purchasing pepper,
which at that time was almost the only export.
The English, following the example of the Portuguese and the Dutch, sent
out a fleet in 1602, during the reign of Queen Elizabeth. These ships
touched at Achin, on the western end of Sumatra, and thence sailed to
Bantam.
In 1610 the Dutch built a fort at a native village called Jacatra, “the
work of victory,” but which they named Batavia. This was destroyed in
1619, and the first Dutch governor-general, Bolt, decided to rebuild
it and remove his settlement from Bantam to that place, which was
done on the 4th of March of that year. This was the foundation of the
present city of Batavia. The English, who had meantime maintained an
establishment at Bantam, withdrew in 1683.
In 1811, when Holland became subject to France, the French flag was
hoisted at Batavia, but that same year it was captured by the English. On
the 19th of August, 1816, they restored it to the Dutch, who have held it
uninterruptedly down to the present time.
In glancing at the internal history of Java, we find that, for many
centuries previous to A. D. 1250, Hinduism, that is, a mixture of
Buddhism and Brahminism, had been the prevailing religion. At that time
an attempt was made to convert the reigning prince to Mohammedanism. This
proved unsuccessful; but so soon afterward did this new religion gain a
foothold, and so rapidly did it spread, that in 1475, at the overthrow
of the great empire of Majapahit, who ruled over the whole of Java and
the eastern parts of Sumatra, a Mohammedan prince took the throne. Up to
this time the people in the western part of Java, as far east as Cheribon
(about Long. 109°), spoke a language called Sundanese, and only the
people in the remaining eastern part of the island spoke Javanese; but in
1811 nine-tenths of the whole population of Java spoke Javanese, and the
Sundanese was already confined to the mountainous parts of the south and
west, and to a small colony near Bantam.
Soon after founding Batavia, the Dutch made an alliance offensive and
defensive with the chief prince, who resided near Surakarta. Various
chiefs rebelled from time to time against his authority, and the Dutch,
in return for the assistance they rendered him, obtained the site of the
present city of Samarang; and in this way they continued to increase
their area until 1749, when the prince then reigning signed an official
deed “to abdicate for himself and for his heirs the sovereignty of
the country, conferring the same on the Dutch East India Company, and
leaving them to dispose of it, in future, to any person they might think
competent to govern it for the benefit of the company and of Java.”
Seven years before this time the empire had been nominally divided, the
hereditary prince being styled Susunan, or “object of adoration,” whose
descendants now reside at Surakarta, near Solo; and a second prince,
who was styled Sultan, and whose descendants reside at Jokyokarta. Each
receives a large annuity from the Dutch Government, and keeps a great
number of servants. Their wives are chosen from all the native beauties
in the land, and the engraving we give from a photograph represents those
of one of the highest dignitaries in full costume, but barefoot, just as
they dress themselves on festive occasions to dance before their lord and
his assembled guests.
The next day when the sea-breeze came, about one o’clock, we sailed up
through the many islands of this part of the coast of Java. They are
all very low and flat, and covered with a short, dense shrubbery, out
of which rise the tall cocoa-nut palm and the waringin or Indian fig.
This green foliage is only separated from the sea by a narrow beach of
ivory-white coral sand, which reflects the bright light of the noonday
sun until it becomes positively dazzling. Where the banks are muddy,
mangrove-trees are seen below high-water level, holding on to the soft
earth with hundreds of branching rootlets, as if trying to claim as land
what really is the dominion of the sea.
[Illustration: POULTRY VENDER.]
This dense vegetation is one of the great characteristics of these
tropical islands; and the constantly varied grouping of the palms,
mangroves, and other trees, and the irregular contour and relief of the
shores, afford an endless series of exquisite views. As we passed one of
the outer islands, its trees were quite covered with kites, gulls, and
other sea-birds.
The next evening we came to the Batavia road, a shallow bay where ships
lie at anchor partially sheltered from the sea by the many islands
scattered about its entrance. The shores of this bay form a low, muddy
morass, but high mountains appear in the distance. Through this morass
a canal has been cut. Its sides are well walled in, and extend out some
distance toward the shipping, on account of the shallowness of the water
along the shore. At the end of one of these moles, or walls, stands a
small white light-house, indicating the way of approaching the city,
which cannot be fully seen from the anchorage.
When a ship arrives from a foreign port, no one can leave her before she
is boarded by an officer from the guardship, a list of her passengers and
crew obtained, and it is ascertained that there is no sickness on board.
Having observed this regulation, we rowed up the canal to the “boom” or
tree, where an officer of the customs looks into every boat that passes.
This word “boom” came into use, as an officer informed me, when it was
the custom to let a _tree_ fall across the canal at night, in order to
prevent any boat from landing or going out to the shipping.
Here were crowds of Malay boatmen, engaged in gambling, by pitching
coins. This seemed also the headquarters of poultry-venders, who were
carrying round living fowls, ducks, and geese, whose feet had been tied
together and fastened to a stick, so that they had to hang with their
heads downward—the very ideal of cruelty.
Before we could land, we were asked several times in Dutch, French, and
English, to take a carriage, for cabmen seem to have the same persistent
habits in every corner of the earth. Meanwhile the Malay drivers kept
shouting out, “Crétur tuan! crétur tuan!” So we took a “crétur,” that is,
a low, covered, four-wheeled carriage, drawn by two miniature ponies. The
driver sits up on a seat in front, in a neat _baju_ or jacket of red or
scarlet calico, and an enormous hemispherical hat, so gilded or bronzed
as to dazzle your eyes when the sun shines.
Though these ponies are small, they go at a quick canter, and we were
rapidly whirled along between a row of shade-trees to the city gate,
almost the only part of the old walls of the city that is now standing.
The other parts were torn down by Marshal Daendals, to allow a freer
circulation of air. Then we passed through another row of shade-trees,
and over a bridge, to the office of the American consul, a graduate of
Harvard; and, as Cambridge had been my home for four years, we at once
considered ourselves as old friends.
Before I left America, Senator Sumner, as chairman of our Committee
on Foreign Relations, kindly gave me a note of warm commendation to
the representatives of foreign powers; and Mr. J. G. S. van Breda, the
secretary of the Society of Sciences in Holland, with whom I had been in
correspondence while at the Museum of Comparative Zoology in Cambridge,
gave me a kind note to Baron Sloet van de Beele, the governor-general of
the Netherlands India. I immediately addressed a note to His Excellency,
enclosing these credentials, and explaining my plan to visit the Spice
Islands for the purpose of collecting the shells figured in Rumphius’s
“Rariteit Kamer,” and expressing the hope that he would do what he could
to aid me in my humble attempts to develop more fully the natural history
of that interesting region. These papers our consul kindly forwarded,
adding a note endorsing them himself.
As the governor-general administers both the civil and military
departments of all the Dutch possessions in the East, I could not expect
an immediate reply. I therefore found a quiet place in a Dutch family,
with two other boarders who spoke English and could assist me in learning
their difficult language, and, bidding Captain Freeman and the other good
officers of the Memnon farewell, took up my abode on shore.
Batavia at present is more properly the name of a district or
“residency,” than of a city. Formerly it was compact and enclosed by
walls, but these were destroyed by Marshal Daendals, in 1811. The
foreigners then moved out and built their residences at various places in
the vicinity, and these localities still retain their old Malay names. In
this part of the city there are several fine hotels, a large opera-house,
and a club-house. There are two scientific societies, which publish many
valuable papers on the natural history, antiquities, geography, and
geology, of all parts of the Netherlands India. These societies have
valuable collections in Batavia, and at Buitenzorg there is a large
collection of minerals and geological specimens. The “King’s Plain” is
a very large open square, surrounded by rows of shade-trees and the
residences of the wealthier merchants. Near this is the “Waterloo Plain.”
On one of its sides is the largest building in Batavia, containing the
offices of the various government bureaus, and the “throne-room,” where
the governor-general receives, in the name of the king, congratulations
from the higher officials in that vicinity.
The governor-general has a palace near by, but he resides most of the
time at Buitenzorg, forty miles in the interior, where the land rises to
about a thousand feet above the level of the sea, and the climate is much
more temperate.
A river, that rises in the mountains to the south, flows through the city
and canal, and empties into the bay. Many bridges are thrown over this
river and its branches, and beautiful shade-trees are planted along its
banks.
All the houses in these Eastern lands are low, rarely more than one
story, for fear of earthquakes, which, however, occur in this part of the
island at long intervals. The walls are of bricks, or fragments of coral
rock covered with layers of plaster. The roof is of tiles, or _atap_, a
kind of thatching of palm-leaves. A common plan is, a house part parallel
to the street, and behind this and at right angles to it an L or porch,
the whole building being nearly in the form of a cross.
In front is a broad veranda, where the inmates sit in the cool evening
and receive the calls of their friends. This opens into a front parlor,
which, with a few sleeping-rooms, occupies the whole house part. The
L, when there is one, usually has only a low wall around it, and a roof
resting on pillars. It is therefore open on three sides to the air,
unless shutters are placed between the pillars. This is usually the
dining-room. Back of the house is a square, open area, enclosed on the
remaining three sides by a row of low, shed-roofed houses. Here are extra
bedrooms, servants’ quarters, cook-rooms, bath-rooms, and stables. Within
this area is usually a well, surrounded with shade-trees. The water from
this well is poured into a thick urn-shaped vessel of coral rock, and
slowly filters through into an earthen pot beneath; it is then cooled
with ice from our own New-England ponds. Thus the cold of our temperate
zone is made to allay the heat of the tropics. Several shiploads of ice
come from Boston to this port every year. At Surabaya and Singapore large
quantities are manufactured, but it is as soft as ice in ice-cream. When
one is accustomed to drinking ice-water, there is no danger of any ill
effect; but, on returning from the eastern part of the archipelago where
they never have ice, to Surabaya, I suffered severely for a time, and,
as I believe, from no other cause. In the frequent cases of fever in the
East it is a luxury, and indeed a medicine, which can only be appreciated
by one who has himself endured that indescribable burning.
The cook-room, as already noticed, is some distance from the dining-room,
but this inconvenience is of little importance in those hot lands. The
Malays are the only cooks, and I do not think that cooking as an art is
carried to the highest perfection in that part of the world, though I
must add, that I soon became quite partial to many of their dishes, which
are especially adapted for that climate. The kitchen is not provided with
stoves or cooking-ranges, as in the Western world, but on one side of the
room there is a raised platform, and on this is a series of small arches,
which answer the same purpose. Fires are made in these arches with small
pieces of wood, and the food is therefore more commonly fried or boiled,
than baked. There is no chimney, and the smoke, after filling the room,
finally escapes through a place in the roof which is slightly raised
above the parts around it.
As I am often questioned about the mode of living in the East, I may
add that always once a day, and generally for dinner, rice and curry
appear, and to these are added, for dinner, potatoes, fried and boiled;
steak, fried and broiled; fried bananas (the choicest of all delicacies),
various kinds of greens, and many sorts of pickles and _sambal_, or
vegetables mixed with red peppers. The next course is salad, and then
are brought on bananas of three or four kinds, at all seasons; and, at
certain times, oranges, pompelmuses, mangoes, mangostins, and rambutans;
and as this is but such a bill of fare as every man of moderate means
expects to provide, the people of the West can see that their friends
in the East, as well as themselves, believe in the motto, “Carpe diem.”
A cigar, or pipe, and a small glass of gin, are generally regarded as
indispensable things to perfect happiness by my good Dutch friends,
and they all seemed to wonder that I could be a traveller and never
touch either. It is generally supposed, in Europe and America, that
housekeepers here, in the East, have little care or vexation, where every
family employs so many servants; but, on the contrary, their troubles
seem to multiply in direct ratio to the number of servants employed. No
servant there will do more than one thing. If engaged as a nurse, it is
only to care for one child; if as a groom, it is only to care for one
horse, or, at most, one span of horses; and as all these Malays are bent
on doing every thing in the easiest way, it is almost as much trouble to
watch them as to do their work.
[Illustration: JAVANESE AND FAMILY.]
The total population of the Residency of Batavia is 517,762. Of these,
5,576 are Europeans; 47,570 Chinese; 463,591 native; 684 Arabs; and 341
of other Eastern nations.
All the natives are remarkably short in stature, the male sex averaging
not more than five feet three inches in height, or four inches less than
that of Europeans. The face is somewhat lozenge-shaped, the cheekbones
high and prominent, the mouth wide, and the nose short—not flat as in
the negroes, or prominent as in Europeans. They are generally of a mild
disposition, except the wild tribes in the mountainous parts of Sumatra,
Borneo, Celebes, Timor, Ceram, and a few other large islands. The coast
people are invariably hospitable and trustworthy. They are usually quiet,
and extremely indolent. They all have an insatiable passion for gambling,
which no restrictive or prohibitory laws can eradicate.
They are nominally Mohammedans, but have none of the fanaticism of that
sect in Arabia. They still retain many of their previous Hindu notions,
and their belief may be properly defined as a mixture of Hinduism and
Mohammedanism. A few are “Christians,” that is, they attend the service
of the Dutch Church, and do not shave their heads or file their teeth.
They are cleanly in their habits, and scores of all ages may be seen
in the rivers and canals of every city and village, especially in the
morning and evening. The _sarong_, their universal dress, is peculiarly
fitted for this habit. When they have finished their baths, a dry one is
drawn on over the head, and the wet one is slipped off beneath without
exposing the person in the least. The females wear the _sarong_ long,
and generally twist it tightly round the body, just under the arms.
Occasionally it is made with sleeves, like a loose gown. A close-fitting
jacket or _baju_ is worn with it.
The men have but a few straggling hairs for beards, and these they
generally pull out with a pair of iron tweezers. The hair of the head in
both sexes is lank, coarse, and worn long. Each sex, therefore, resembles
the other so closely that nearly every foreigner will, at first, find
himself puzzled in many cases to know whether he is looking at a man or a
woman. This want of differentiation in the sexes possibly indicates their
low rank in the human family, if the law may be applied here that obtains
among most other animals.
Every day I went out to collect the peculiar birds and beautiful
butterflies of that region, my favorite place for this pleasure being
in an old Chinese cemetery just outside the city, where, as the land
was level, the earth had been thrown up into mounds to keep the bones of
their inmates from “the wet unfortunate places,” just as in China, when
far from any mountain or hill. A Malay servant followed, carrying my
ammunition and collecting-boxes. At first I supposed he would have many
superstitious objections to wandering to and fro with me over the relics
of the Celestials, but, to my surprise, I found his people cultivating
the spaces between the graves, as if they, at least, did not consider it
sacred soil; yet, several times, when we came to the graves of his own
ancestors, he was careful to approach with every manifestation of awe and
respect.
A small piece of land, a bamboo hut, and a buffalo, comprise all the
worldly possessions of most coolies, and yet with these they always seem
most enviably contented.
They generally use but a single buffalo in their ploughs and carts. A
string passing through his nostrils is tied to his horns, and to this is
attached another for a rein, by which he is guided or urged to hasten on
his slow motions. This useful animal is distributed over all the large
islands of the archipelago, including the Philippines, over India and
Ceylon; and during the middle ages was introduced into Egypt, Greece, and
Italy. It thrives well only in warm climates. From its peculiar habit of
wallowing in pools and mires, and burying itself until only its nose and
eyes can be seen, it has been named the “water-ox.” This appears to be
its mode of resting, as well as escaping the scorching rays of the sun,
and the swarms of annoying flies; and in the higher lands the natives
make artificial ponds by the roadside, where these animals may stop when
on a journey. They are generally of a dark slate-color, and occasionally
of a light flesh-color, but rarely or never white. They are so sparsely
covered with hair as to be nearly naked. They are larger than our oxen,
but less capable of continued labor. They are usually so docile that
even the Malay children can drive them, but they dislike the appearance
of a European, and have a peculiar mode of manifesting this aversion by
breathing heavily through the nose. At such times they become restive and
unmanageable, and their owners have frequently requested me to walk away,
for fear I should be attacked. When the females are suckling their young,
they are specially dangerous. A large male has been found to be more than
a match for a full-grown royal tiger.
On most of the islands where the tame buffalo is seen, wild ones are
also found among the mountains; but naturalists generally suppose the
original home of the species was on the continent, and that the wild ones
are merely the descendants of those that have escaped to the forests.
The Spaniards found them on the Philippines when they first visited that
archipelago.
[Illustration: RAHDEN SALEH.]
[Illustration: RAHDEN SALEH’S PALACE.]
The plough generally used has both sides alike, and a single handle,
which the coolie holds in his right hand while he guides the buffalo with
the left. The lower part of the share is of iron, the other parts of
wood. It only scratches the ground to the depth of six or eight inches—a
strange contrast to our deep subsoil ploughing. In these shallow furrows
are dropped kernels of our own Indian maize and seeds of the sugar-cane.
Sometimes the fields are planted with cocoa-nut palms about twenty yards
apart, more for their shade, it appears, than for their fruit, which is
now hanging in great green and yellow clusters, and will be ripe in a
month. Beneath these trees are blighted nuts, and in many places large
heaps of them are seen, gathered by the natives for the sake of the husk,
from which they make a coarse rope.
Among these trees I was surprised to hear the noise, or more properly
words, “Tokay! tokay!” and my servant at once explained that that was the
way a kind of lizard “talked” in his land. So snugly do these animals
hide away among the green leaves that it was several days before I could
satisfy myself that I had secured a specimen of this speaking quadruped.
During my hunting I enjoyed some charming views of the high, dark-blue
mountains to the south. One excursion is worthy of especial mention.
It was to the palace of Rahden Saleh, a native prince. This palace
consisted of a central part and two wings, with broad verandas on all
sides. On entering the main building we found ourselves in a spacious
hall, with a gallery above. In the centre of the floor rose a sort
of table, and around the sides of the room were chairs of an antique
pattern. Side-doors opened out of this hall into smaller rooms, each
of which was furnished with a straw carpet, and in the centre a small,
square Brussels carpet, on which was a table ornamented with carved-work,
and surrounded with a row of richly-cushioned chairs. Along the sides
were similar chairs and small, gilded tables. On the walls hung large
steel engravings, among which I noticed two frequently seen in our
own land: “The Mohammedan’s Paradise,” and one of two female figures
personifying the past and the future. In front of the palace the grounds
were tastefully laid out as small lawns and flower-plats, bordered with
a shrub filled with red leaves. An accurate idea of the harmonious
proportions of this beautiful palace is given in the accompanying cut.
It is the richest residence owned by any native prince in the whole East
Indian Archipelago.
The Rahden at the time was in the adjoining grounds, which he is now
forming into large zoological gardens for the government at Batavia.
When a youth, he was sent to Holland, and educated at the expense of
the Dutch Government. While there, he acquired a good command of the
German and French languages, was received as a distinguished guest
at all the courts, and associated with the leading literati. In this
manner he became acquainted with Eugene Sue, who was then at work on
his “Wandering Jew,” and—as is generally believed—at once chose the
Rahden as a model for his “Eastern prince,” one of the most prominent
characters in that book. But it is chiefly as a landscape-painter that
the Rahden is most famous. A few years ago there was a great flood here
at Batavia, which proved a fit subject for his pencil; and the painting
was so greatly admired, that he presented it to the King of Holland. When
I was introduced to him, he at once, with all a courtier’s art, inquired
whether I was from the North or the South; and on hearing that I was not
only from the North, but had served for a time in the Union army, he
insisted on shaking hands again, remarking that he trusted that it would
not be long before all the slaves in our land would be free.
I had not been out many times collecting before I found myself seized one
night with a severe pain in the back of the neck and small of the back—a
sure sign of an approaching fever. The next day found me worse, then I
became somewhat better, and then worse again. The sensation was as if
some one were repeatedly thrusting a handful of red-hot knitting-needles
into the top of my head, which, as they passed in, diverged till they
touched the base of the brain. Then came chills, and then again those
indescribable darting pains. It seemed as if I could not long retain
the command of my mind under such severe torture. At last, after seven
days of this suffering, I decided to go to the military hospital, which
is open to citizens of all nations on their paying the same price per
day as in the best hotels. The hospital consisted of a series of long,
low, one-story buildings placed at right angles to each other, and on
both sides facing open squares and wide walks or gardens, which were
all bordered with large trees and contained some fine flowers. In each
of the buildings were two rows of rooms or chambers of convenient size,
which opened out on to a wide piazza, where the sick could enjoy all the
breezes and yet be sheltered from the sun. Every morning the chief doctor
came round to each room with assistants and servants, who carefully noted
his directions and prescriptions. He was a German, and appeared very
kindly in his manner; but when the time arrived to take medicine, I found
he had not only assigned for me huge doses of that most bitter of all
bitter things—quinine—but also copious draughts of some fluid villanously
sour. The ultimate result of these allopathic doses was, however,
decidedly beneficial; and after keeping perfectly quiet for a week, I was
well enough to return to my boarding-house, but yet was so weak for some
time that I could scarcely walk.
Our consul, who had been kindly visiting me all the while, now came
with a letter from His Excellency the governor-general that was
amply sufficient to make me wholly forget my unfavorable initiation
into tropical life. It was addressed to the “Heads of the Provincial
Governments in and out of Java,” and read thus: “I have the honor to ask
Your Excellency to render to the bearer, Mr. Albert S. Bickmore, who may
come into the district under your command in the interest of science,
all the assistance in your power, without causing a charge to the public
funds or a burden to the native people.”
Besides honoring me with this kind letter, His Excellency generously
wrote the consul that he would be happy to offer me “post-horses _free_
over all Java,” if I should like to travel in the interior. But it was
with the hope of reaching the Spice Islands that I had come to the East,
and, after thanking the governor-general for such great consideration and
kindness, I began making preparations for a voyage through the eastern
part of the archipelago. I had brought with me a good supply of large
copper cans with screw covers. These were filled with arrack, a kind of
rum made of molasses and rice. Dip-nets, hooks, lines, and all such other
paraphernalia, I had fully provided myself with before I left America.
Yet one paper, besides a ticket, was needed before I could go on board
the mail-boat, and that was a “permission to travel in the Netherlands
India.” This paper ought to have been renewed, according to law, once
every month; but the governor-general’s letter was such an ample
passport, that I never troubled myself about the matter again during the
year I was journeying in the Dutch possessions.
CHAPTER II.
SAMARANG AND SURABAYA.
On the 7th of June, as the twilight was brightening in the eastern sky, I
left my new Batavia home, and was hurriedly driven to the “boom.” A small
steamer was waiting to take passengers off to the mail-boat that goes to
Celebes, Timor, and Amboina, the capital of the Spice Islands.
My baggage all on board, I had time to rest, and realize that once more I
was a wanderer; but lonesome thoughts were quickly banished when I began
to observe who were to be my companions, there on the eastern side of the
world, so far from the centre of civilization and fashion; and just then
a real exquisite stepped on board. He was tall, but appeared much taller
from wearing a high fur hat, the most uncomfortable covering for the head
imaginable in that hot climate. Then his neckcloth! It was spotlessly
white, and evidently tied with the greatest care; but what especially
attracted my attention were his long, thin hands, carefully protected by
white kid gloves. However, we had not been a long time on the steamer,
where every place was covered with a thick layer of coal-dust, before
Mr. Exquisite changed his elegant apparel for a matter-of-fact suit,
and made his second appearance as a _littérateur_, with a copy of the
_Cornhill Magazine_. As he evidently did not intend to read, I borrowed
it, and found it was already three years old, and the leaves still uncut.
It contained a graphic description of the grounds about Isaac Walton’s
retired home—probably the most like the garden of Eden of any place seen
on our earth since man’s fall.
The other passengers were mostly officials and merchants going to
Samarang, Surabaya, or Macassar, and I found that I was the only one
travelling to Amboina. The general commanding the Dutch army in the
East was on board. He was a very polite, unassuming gentleman, and
manifested much interest in a Sharpe’s breech-loader I had brought from
America, and regarded it the most effective army rifle of any he had
seen up to that time. He was going to the headquarters of the army,
which is a strongly-fortified place back of Samarang. It was described
to me as located on a mountain or high plateau with steep sides—a
perfect Gibraltar, which they boasted a small army could maintain for
an indefinite length of time against any force that might be brought
against it. About five months later, however, it was nearly destroyed by
a violent earthquake, but has since been completely rebuilt.
One genial acquaintance I soon found in a young man who had just come
from Sumatra. He had travelled far among the high mountains and deep
gorges in the interior of that almost unexplored island, and his vivid
descriptions gave me an indescribable longing to behold such magnificent
scenery—a pleasure I did not fancy at that time it would be my good
fortune to enjoy before I left the archipelago.
All day the sky was very hazy, but we obtained several grand views of
high volcanoes, especially two steep cones that can be seen in the west
from the road at Batavia. A light, but steady breeze came from the east,
for it was as yet only the early part of the eastern monsoon. When the
sun sank in the west, the full moon rose in the east, and spread out a
broad band of silver over the sea. The air was so soft and balmy, and the
whole sky and sea so enchanting, that to recall it this day seems like
fancying anew a part of some fascinating dream.
This word monsoon is only a corruption of the Arabic word _musim_,
“season,” which the Portuguese learned from the Arabians and their
descendants, who were then navigating these seas. It first occurs in
the writings of De Barros, where he speaks of a famine that occurred at
Malacca, because the usual quantity of rice had not been brought from
Java; and “the mução” being adverse, it was not possible to obtain a
sufficient supply. The Malays have a peculiar manner of always speaking
of any region to the west as being “above the wind,” and any region to
the east as being “below the wind.”
_June 8th._—Went on deck early this morning to look at the mountains
which we might be passing; and, while I was absorbed in viewing a
fine headland, the captain asked me if I had seen that gigantic peak,
pointing upward, as he spoke, to a mountain-top, rising out of such high
clouds that I had not noticed it. It was Mount Slamat, which attains
an elevation of eleven thousand three hundred and thirty English feet
above the sea—the highest peak but one among the many lofty mountains
on Java, and, like most of them, an active volcano. The upper limit of
vegetation on it is three thousand feet below its crest. The northern
coast of Java is so low here that this mountain, instead of appearing to
rise up, as it does, from the interior of the island, seemed close by
the shore—an effect which occurs in viewing nearly all these lofty peaks
while the observer is sailing on the Java Sea. M. Zollinger, a Swiss,
says that at sunrise the tops of these loftiest peaks are brightened
with the same rose-red glow that is seen on Monte Rosa and Mont Blanc
when the sun is setting, and once or twice I thought I observed the same
charming phenomenon. The lowlands and the lower declivities of all the
mountains seen to-day are under the highest state of cultivation. Indeed,
this part of Java may be correctly described as one magnificent garden,
divided into small lots by lines of thick evergreens, and tall, feathery
palm-trees. This afternoon we steamed into the open roadstead of Samarang
during a heavy rain-squall; for though the “western monsoon,” or “rainy
season,” is past, yet nearly every afternoon we have a heavy shower,
and every one is speaking of the great damage it is likely to do to the
rice and sugar crops which are just now ripening. The heavy rain-squall
cleared away the thick haze that filled the sky, and the next morning
I went on shore to see the city. A few miles directly back of it rises
the sharp peak of Ungarung to a height of some five thousand feet, its
flanks highly cultivated in fields, and its upper region devoted to
coffee-trees. Somewhat west of this, near the shore, I noticed a small
naked cone, apparently of brown, volcanic ashes, and of so recent an
origin that the vigorous vegetation of these tropical lands had not had
time to spread over its surface. Back of Ungarung rise three lofty peaks
in a line northwest and southeast. The northernmost and nearest is Mount
Prau; the central, Mount Sumbing; and the southern one, Mount Sindoro.
Mount Prau receives its name from its shape, which has been fancied to
be like that of a “prau,” or native boat, turned upside down. It was the
supposed residence of the gods and demigods of the Javanese in ancient
times, and now it abounds in the ruins of many temples; some partially
covered with lava, showing that earthquakes and eruptions have done their
share in causing this destruction. Many images of these ancient gods
in metal have been found on this mountain. Ruins of enormous temples
of those olden times are yet to be seen at Boro Bodo, in the province
of Kedu, and at Brambanan, in the province of Matarem. At Boro Bodo a
hill-top has been changed into a low pyramid, one hundred feet high, and
having a base of six hundred and twenty feet on a side. Its sides are
formed into five terraces, and the perpendicular faces of these terraces
contain many niches, in each of which was once an image of Buddha. On the
level area at the summit of the pyramid is a large dome-shaped building,
surrounded by seventy-two smaller ones of the same general form.
According to the chronology of the Javanese, it was built in A. D. 1344.
At Brambanan are seen extensive ruins of several groups of temples, built
of huge blocks of trachyte, carefully hewn and put together without
any kind of cement. The most wonderful of those groups is that of “The
Thousand Temples.” They actually number two hundred and ninety-six, and
are situated on a low, rectangular terrace, measuring five hundred and
forty by five hundred and ten feet, in five rows, one within another; a
large central building, on a second terrace, overlooks the whole. This
was elaborately ornamented, and, before it began to decay, probably
formed, with those around it, one of the most imposing temples ever
reared in all the East. According to the traditions of the Javanese,
these buildings were erected between A. D. 1266 and 1296.
These structures were doubtless planned and superintended by natives of
India. They were dedicated to Hindu worship, and here the Brahmins and
Buddhists appear to have forgotten their bitter hostility, and in some
cases to have even worshipped in the same temple. The Indian origin of
these works is further proved by images of the zebu, or humped ox, which
have been found here and elsewhere in Java, but it does not now exist,
and probably never did, in any part of the archipelago.
As two Malays rowed me rapidly along in a narrow, canoe-like boat, I
watched the clouds gather and embrace the high head of Mount Prau. Only
thin and fibrous cumuli covered the other lofty peaks, but a thick cloud
wrapped itself around the crest of this mountain and many small ones
gathered on its dark sides, which occasionally could be seen through the
partings in its white fleecy shroud. The form of the whole was just that
of the mountain, except at its top, where for a time the clouds rose like
a gigantic, circular castle, the square openings in their dense mass
exactly resembling the windows in such thick walls.
Eastward of Ungarung are seen the lofty summits of Merbabu and Mérapi,
and east from the anchorage rises Mount Japara, forming, with the low
lands at its feet, almost an island, on Java’s north coast.
Like Batavia, Samarang is situated on both sides of a small river, in a
low morass. The river was much swollen by late rains, and in the short
time I passed along it, I saw dead horses, cats, dogs, and monkeys borne
on its muddy waters out to the bay, there perhaps to sink and be covered
with layers of mud, and, if after long ages those strata should be
elevated above the level of the sea and fall under a geologist’s eye, to
become the subject of some prolix disquisition. This is, in fact, exactly
the way that most of the land animals in the marine deposits of former
times have come down to us—an extremely fragmentary history at best, yet
sufficient to give us some idea of the strange denizens of the earth when
few or none of the highest mountains had yet been formed.
[Illustration: WATERING THE STREETS, BATAVIA.]
[Illustration: A TANDU.]
Through this low morass they are now digging a canal out to the roads,
so that the city may be approached from the anchorage by the canal and
the river. This canal is firmly walled in, as at Batavia. From the
landing-place to the city proper the road was a stream of mud, and the
houses are small and occupied only by Malays and the poorer classes of
Chinese. In such streets two coolies are occasionally seen carrying one
of the native belles in a _tandu_. The city itself is more compact than
Batavia, and the shops are remarkably fine. It was pleasant to look again
on some of the same engravings exposed for sale in our own shops. The
finest building in the city, and the best of the kind that I have seen
in the East, is a large one containing the custom and other bureaus.
It is two stories high, and occupies three sides of a rectangle. I was
told that they were fifteen years in building it, though in our country
a private firm would have put it up in half as many months. There are
several very fine hotels, and I saw one most richly furnished. Near the
river stands a high watch-tower, where a constant lookout is kept for
all ships approaching the road. From its top a wide view is obtained
over the anchorage, the lowlands, and the city. Toward the interior rich
fields are seen stretching away to the province of Kedu, “the garden of
Java.” A railroad has been begun here, which will extend to Surakarta and
Jokyokarta, on the east side of Mount Mérapi, and will open this rich
region more fully to the world.[2]
The church of the city, which is chiefly sustained here as elsewhere by
the Dutch Government, is a large cathedral-like building, finished in
the interior in an octagonal form. One side is occupied by the pulpit,
another by the organ, and the others are for the congregation. At the
time I entered, the pastor was lecturing in a conversational but earnest
manner to some twenty Malays and Chinese, gathered around him. At the
close of his exhortation he shook hands with each in the most cordial
manner.
From this church I went to the Mohammedan mosque, a square pagoda-like
structure, with three roofs, one above the other, and each being a
little smaller than the one beneath it. It was Friday, the Mohammedan
Sabbath, and large numbers were coming to pay their devotions to the
false prophet, for his is the prevailing religion in this land. By the
gate in the wall enclosing the mosque were a well and a huge stone tank,
where all the faithful performed the most scrupulous ablutions before
proceeding to repeat the required parts of the Koran. It was pleasant to
see that at least they believed and practised the maxim that “cleanliness
is next to godliness.” From the gate I walked up an inclined terrace
to the large doorway, and at once saw, from the troubled expression on
the faces of those who were kneeling on their straw mats outside the
building, that I had committed some impropriety; and one answered my look
of inquiry by pointing to my feet. I had forgotten that I was treading
on “holy ground,” and had therefore neglected “to put off my shoes.”
Opposite the entrance is usually a niche, and on one side of this a kind
of throne, but what was the origin or signification of either I never
could learn, and believe the common people are as ignorant as myself
in this respect. Their whole ceremony is to kneel, facing this niche,
and repeat in a low, mumbling, nasal tone some parts of the writings
of their prophet. Their priests are always Arabs, or their mestizo
descendants, the same class of people as those who introduced this faith.
Any one who has been to Mecca is regarded as next to a saint, and many
go to Singapore or Penang, where they remain a year or two, and then
return and declare they have seen the holy city. The first conversions
to Mohammedanism in any part of the archipelago occurred at Achin, the
western end of Sumatra, in 1204. It was not taught by pure Arabs, but by
those descendants of Arabs and Persians who came from the Persian Gulf
to Achin to trade. Thence it spread slowly eastward to Java, Celebes,
and the Moluccas, and northward to the Philippines, where it was just
gaining a foothold when the Spanish arrived. Under their rule it was
soon eradicated, and supplanted by Catholic Christianity. Bali is
almost the only island where the people can read and write their native
tongue, and have not partially adopted this religion. On the continent
it spread so rapidly that, within one hundred years after the Hegira,
it was established from Persia to Spain; but, as its promulgators were
not a maritime people, it did not reach Achin until five hundred and
seventy-two years after the Hegira, and then its followers had so little
of the fanaticism and energy of the Arabs, that it was more than three
hundred years in reaching Celebes, and fully establishing itself on that
island. The Malay name for this religion is always “Islam.”
On our way back to the mail-boat we passed quite a fleet of
fishing-boats, at the mouth of the river. They are generally made alike
at both ends, and look like huge canoes. Some have high lantern-shaped
houses perched on the stern, as if to make them more unsightly. Here they
all have decks, but those at Batavia are merely open boats.
The next day we continued on our course to the eastward, around the
promontory formed by Mount Japara, whose sides are so completely scored
by deep ravines that little or none of the original surface of the
mountain can be seen. Dr. Junghuhn, who has spent many years studying
in detail the mountains of Java, finds that above a height of ten
thousand feet but very few ravines exist. This height is the common
cloud-level, and the rains that they pour out, of course, only affect the
mountain-sides below that elevation, hence the flanks of a mountain are
sometimes deeply scored while its top remains entire. The substances of
which these great cones are chiefly composed are mostly volcanic ashes,
sand, and small fragments of basalt or lava, just the kind of materials
that swift torrents would rapidly carry away.
The volcanoes of Java are mostly in two lines: one, commencing near Cape
St. Nicholas, its northwestern extremity, passes diagonally across the
island to its southeastern headland on the Strait of Bali. The other is
parallel to this, and extends from the middle of the Strait of Sunda
to the south coast in the longitude of Cheribon. They stand along two
immense fissures in the earth’s crust, but the elevating power appears
only to have found vent at certain separate points along these fissures.
At these points sub-aërial eruptions of volcanic ashes, sand, and scoriæ
have occurred, and occasionally streams of basaltic and trachytic lava
have poured out, until no less than thirty-eight cones, some of immense
size, have been formed on this island. Their peculiar character is, that
they are distinct and separate mountains, and not peaks in a continuous
chain.
The second characteristic of these mountains is the great quantity of
sulphur they produce. White clouds of sulphurous acid gas continually
wreath the crests of these high peaks, and betoken the unceasing activity
within their gigantic masses. This gas is the one that is formed when a
friction-match is lighted, and is, of course, extremely destructive to
all animal and vegetable life.
At various localities in the vicinity of active volcanoes and in old
craters this gas still escapes, and the famous “Guevo Upas” or Valley of
Poison, on the flanks of the volcano Papandayang, is one of these areas
of noxious vapors. It is situated at the head of a valley on the outer
declivity of the mountain, five hundred or seven hundred feet below the
rim of the old crater which contains the “Telaga Bodas” or White Lake.
It is a small, bare place, of a pale gray or yellowish color, containing
many crevices and openings from which carbonic acid gas pours out from
time to time. Here both Mr. Reinwardt and Dr. Junghuhn saw a great number
of dead animals of various kinds, as dogs, cats, tigers, rhinoceroses,
squirrels, and other rodents, many birds, and even snakes, who had lost
their lives in this fatal place. Besides carbonic acid gas, sulphurous
acid gas also escapes. This was the only gas present at the time of
Dr. Junghuhn’s visit, and is probably the one that causes such certain
destruction to all the animals that wander into this valley of death.
The soft parts of these animals, as the skin, the muscles, and the hair
or feathers, were found by both observers quite entire, while the bones
had crumbled and mostly disappeared. The reason that so many dead animals
are found on this spot, while none exist in the surrounding forests, is
because beasts of prey not only cannot consume them, but even they lose
their lives in the midst of these poisonous gases.
It was in such a place that the deadly upas was fabled to be found. The
first account of this wonderful tree was given by Mr. N. P. Foersch, a
surgeon in the service of the Dutch East India Company. His original
article was published in the fourth volume of Pennant’s “Outlines of the
Globe,” and repeated in the _London Magazine_ for September, 1785. He
states that he saw it himself, and describes it as “the sole individual
of its species, standing alone, in a scene of solitary horror, on the
middle of a naked, blasted plain, surrounded by a circle of mountains,
the whole area of which is covered with the skeletons of birds, beasts,
and men. Not a vestige of vegetable life is to be seen within the
contaminated atmosphere, and even the fishes die in the water!” This,
like most fables, has some foundation in fact; and a large forest-tree
exists in Java, the _Antiaris toxicaria_ of botanists, that has a
poisonous sap. When its bark is cut, a sap flows out much resembling
milk, but thicker and more viscid. A native prepared some poison from
this kind of sap for Dr. Horsfield. He mingled with it about half a
drachm of the sap of the following vegetables—arum, kempferia galanga,
anomum, a kind of zerumbed, common onion or garlic, and a drachm and a
half of black pepper. This poison proved mortal to a dog in one hour; a
mouse in ten minutes; a monkey in seven; a cat in fifteen; and a large
buffalo died in two hours and ten minutes from the effects of it. A
similar poison is prepared from the sap of the _chetek_, a climbing vine.
The deadly anchar is thus pictured in Darwin’s “Botanic Garden:”
“Fierce in dread silence, on the blasted heath,
Fell Upas sits, the hydra-tree of death!
So, from one root, the envenomed soil below,
A thousand vegetative serpents grow!
In shining rays the steady monster spreads
O’er _ten square leagues_ his far-diverging head,
Or in one trunk entwists his tangled form,
Looks o’er the clouds, and hisses at the storm;
Steeped in fell poison, as his sharp teeth part,
A thousand tongues in quick vibration dart,
Snatch the proud eagle towering o’er the heath,
Or pounce the lion as he stalks beneath;
Or strew, as martial hosts contend in vain,
With human skeletons the whitened plain.”
All the north coast of Java is very low, often forming a morass,
except here and there where some mountain sends out a spur to form a
low headland. As we neared Madura this low land spread out beneath the
shallow sea and we were obliged to keep eight or ten miles from land.
On both sides of the Madura Strait the land is also low, and on the left
hand we passed many villages of native fishermen who tend bamboo weirs
that extend out a long way from the shore.
Here, for the first time, I saw boats with outriggers. Each had one such
float on the leeward side, while, on a kind of rack on the windward
side, was placed a canoe and every thing on board that was movable. Each
boat carries two triangular sails, made of narrow, white cloths, with
occasionally a red or black one in the middle or on the margins by way of
ornament.
Just before entering the road of Surabaya we passed Gresik, a small
village of Chinese and other foreigners, situated immediately on the
beach. It is an old site and famous in the early history of Java, but the
houses seemed mostly new, and their red-tiled roofs contrasted prettily
with their white ridge-poles and gable-ends. It was here, according
to the Javanese historians, that the Mohammedan religion was first
established on their soil.
At Surabaya there appears to be much more business than at Batavia, and
we found a larger number of vessels at anchor in the roads. At Batavia,
the anchorage is somewhat sheltered by the islands at the mouth of the
bay. At Samarang, the anchorage is quite exposed during the western
monsoon, and the swell and surf are sometimes so great that boats cannot
land, but at Surabaya the shipping is perfectly sheltered from all gales.
There are, however, strong tidal currents, on account of the size of the
bay, at the anchorage, and the narrow straits that connect it with the
sea. These straits, though narrow, are not dangerous, and this may be
said to be the only good harbor that is frequented on the island of Java.
On the south coast, at Chilachap, there is a safe and well-sheltered
anchorage, but it has very little trade.
At evening, when the water is ebbing, flocks of white herons range
themselves in lines along its retreating edge, and calmly await the
approach of some unlucky fish. Then the fishing-boats come up from the
east, spreading out their white sails, and forming a counterpart to the
lines of white herons along the shore.
The natives, unable to walk to their huts on the banks, have a most novel
and rapid mode of navigating these mud-flats. A board about two feet
wide, five or six feet long, and curved up at one end like the runner of
a sled, is placed on the soft mud, and the fisherman rests the left knee
on it while he kicks with the right foot, in just the way that boys push
themselves on their sleds over ice or snow. In this way they go as fast
as a man would walk on solid ground.
Like Batavia and Samarang, Surabaya[3] is situated on both sides of a
small river, on low land, but not in a morass, like the old city of
Batavia, and yet much nearer the shipping. This river has been changed
into a canal by walling in its banks. Near its entrance it is lined on
one side with nice dwelling-houses, and bordered with a row of fine
shade-trees. Back of these dwellings is the government dock-yard. It
is very carefully built, and contains a dry-dock, a place to take up
ships like our railways, ample work-shops, and large sheds for storing
away lumber. They were then building six small steamers and two or
three boats, besides a great dry-dock for the largest ships. Here was
the Medusa, the ship that led the allied Dutch, English, French, and
American fleet in the attack on Simonosaki, at the entrance of the Inland
Sea in Japan. The many scars in her sides showed the dangerous part she
had taken in the attack, and I have frequently heard the Dutch officers
speak with a just pride of the bravery and skill of her officers in that
engagement. Formerly, ships could only be repaired by being “thrown down”
at Onrust, an island six miles west of the road at Batavia; but now
nearly all such work is done in this yard. It was most enlivening to hear
the rapid ringing of hammers on anvils—a sound one can rarely enjoy in
those dull Eastern cities.
The government machine-shop is another proof of the determination of the
Dutch to make for themselves whatever they need, and to be independent of
foreign markets. Here they make many castings, but their chief business
is manufacturing steam-boilers for the navy. Nine hundred Javanese were
then in this establishment, all laboring voluntarily, and having full
liberty to leave whenever they chose. Most of the overseers even are
natives, and but few Europeans are employed in the whole works. They all
perform their allotted tasks quietly and steadily, without loud talking
or any unnecessary noise. Some of them are so skilful that they receive
nearly two guilders per day. These facts show the capabilities of the
Javanese, and indicate that there may yet be a bright future for this
people. Here the standard weights and measures for the government are
manufactured; and as an instance of the longevity of this people, when
they are correct in their habits, the director told me that one native
had worked for fifty-seven years in that department, and for some time
had been assisted by both his sons and grandsons. He had just retired,
and the director had been able to obtain for him a pension of full pay
on account of the long time he had been in the service. There were
three others still in the works, who also began fifty-seven years ago.
Such cases are the more remarkable, because these natives are usually
unable to labor at the age of thirty-five or forty, on account of their
dissolute habits. Most of their machinery is not as nicely finished as
that imported from Europe, but it appears to be quite as durable. Yet
the fact that some Javanese have the capacity to do nice work was proved
by one in charge of the engraving-department, whose fine lines would
have been creditable to many a European. A merchant also has a similar
machine-shop on a still greater scale.
Near by are the government artillery-works, where all the parts of wood
and iron and the saddles and harnesses are manufactured, every thing
but the guns. The wood used is carefully-seasoned teak. It is extremely
durable, and combines in a good degree both lightness and strength. The
leather is made by the natives from hides of the _sapi_, or cattle of
Madura, the only kind seen here in Surabaya. It is light and flexible,
and somewhat spongy compared to that made from our Northern hides. When
it is wet it “spots,” the wet places taking a darker color, which they
retain when the leather again becomes dry. The director of the works
thought that these defects might be remedied by adopting some other mode
of tanning it. The leather made from the hide of the buffalo is thin,
and, at the same time, excessively rigid.
The streets of Surabaya are narrow compared to those of Batavia; but they
are far better provided with shade-trees of different species, among
which the tamarind, with its highly compound leaves, appears to be the
favorite. Here, as in all the other chief cities of the archipelago,
the dusty streets are usually sprinkled by coolies, who carry about two
large watering-pots. In the centre of the city, on an open square, is
the opera-house, a large, well-proportioned building, neatly painted
and frescoed within. In the suburbs is the public garden, nicely laid
out, and abounding in richly-flowering shrubs. There were a number of
birds peculiar to the East: a cassowary from Ceram, a black-swan from
Australia, and some beautiful wild pheasants (_Gallus_) from Madura. Of
this genus, _Gallus_, there are two wild species on that island and in
Java. One of these, _Gallus bankiva_, is also found in Sumatra and the
peninsula of Malacca. A third species is found in the Philippines, but
none is yet known in the great islands of Borneo and Celebes or in any of
the islands eastward. On the peninsula of Malacca, Sumatra, Borneo, and
the Spice Islands, the Malay word _ayam_ is used, but on the Philippines
and Java the Javanese word _manuk_ is frequently heard—it has hence been
inferred that the Malays and Javanese were the first to domesticate it,
and distribute it over the archipelago. Temminck regards the _Gallus
bankiva_ as the progenitor of our common fowl. If he is right in this
conjecture, it was probably brought into Greece by the Persians, for the
Greeks sometimes called it the “Persian bird.”[4] Its early introduction
into Europe is shown by representations of it on the walls of the
Etruscan tombs, and Mr. Crawfurd states that it was found in England
more than two thousand years ago. The small variety known to us as “the
Bantam,” is not a native of Java, but received that name because it was
first seen by European traders on Japanese junks which came to that city
to trade.
All the Malay race, except the Javanese, have the most inordinate thirst
for gambling, and their favorite method of gratifying this passion is
cock-fighting. This is forbidden by the Dutch Government; but in the
Philippines the Spanish only subject the gamblers to a heavy tax, and the
extent to which it is indulged in those islands is indicated by a yearly
revenue of forty thousand dollars from this source alone.
The passion for this vice among the Malays is also shown in their
language; for, according to Mr. Crawfurd, there is one specific name for
cock-fighting, one for the natural and one for the artificial spur of
the cock, two names for the comb, three for crowing, two for a cock-pit,
and one for a professional cock-fighter.
But to return to the garden, where, among more interesting objects, were
some images of the Brahman or Buddhist gods, worshipped by the ancient
Javanese. One, particularly monstrous, appeared to have the body of a man
and the head of a beast. A favorite model was to represent a man with the
head of an elephant, seated on a throne that rested on a row of human
skulls.
Hinduism was undoubtedly introduced into the archipelago in the same
way as Mohammedanism—namely, by those who came from the West to trade,
first into Sumatra, and afterward into Java and Celebes. This commercial
intercourse probably began in the very remotest ages; for, according to
Sir Gardner Wilkinson, the Egyptians used tin in manufacturing their
implements of bronze two thousand years before the Christian era, and
it is more probable that this tin came from the Malay peninsula than
from Cornwall, the only two sources of any importance that are yet known
for this valuable metal, if we include with the former the islands of
Billiton and Banca. In the “Periplus of the Erythræan Sea,” written
about A. D. 60, it is stated that this mineral was found at two cities
on the western coast of India, but that it came from countries farther
east. In this same descriptive treatise it is also mentioned that the
_malabrathrum_, a kind of odoriferous gum imported from India for the
use of the luxurious Romans, was found at Barake, a port on the coast
of Malabar, but that it likewise came from some land farther east;
and malabrathrum is supposed by many to be the modern benzoin, a resin
obtained from the _Styrax benzoin_, a plant only found in the lands of
the Battas, in Sumatra, and on the coast of Brunai, in the northern part
of Borneo.
[Illustration: A KLING.]
[Illustration: NATIVE OF BILUCHISTAN.]
Although we gather from the records of Western nations these indications
of products coming from the archipelago in the earliest ages, yet we have
no information in regard to the time that the Hindu traders, who sailed
eastward from India and purchased these valuable articles, succeeded in
planting their own religion among those distant nations. The annals of
both the Malay and Javanese are evidently fanciful, and are generally
considered unreliable for any date previous to the introduction of
Mohammedanism. Simple chronological lists are found in Java, which
refer as far back as A. D. 78; but Mr. Crawfurd says that “they are
incontestable fabrications, often differing widely from each other, and
containing gaps of whole centuries.”
The people who came from India on these early voyages were probably
of the same Talagu or Telugu nation as those now called by the Malays
“Klings” or “Kalings,” a word evidently derived from Kalinga, the
Sanscrit name for the northern part of the coast of Coromandel. They
have always continued to trade with the peninsula, and I met them on the
coast of Sumatra. Barbosa, who saw them at Malacca when the Portuguese
first arrived at that city, thus describes them:[5] “There are many great
merchants here, Moor as well as Gentile strangers, but chiefly of the
Chetis, who are of the Coromandel coast, and have large ships, which they
call giunchi” (junks). Unlike the irregular winds that must have greatly
discouraged the early Greeks and Phœnicians from long voyages over the
Euxine and the Mediterranean, the steady monsoons of the Bay of Bengal
invited those people out to sea, and by their regular changes promised to
bring them within a year safely back to their homes.
The United States steamship Iroquois was then lying in the roads, and
our consular agent at this port invited Captain Rodgers, our consul from
Batavia, who was there on business, and myself, to take a ride with
him out to a sugar-plantation that was under his care. In those hot
countries it is the custom to start early on pleasure excursions, in
order to avoid the scorching heat of the noonday sun. We were therefore
astir at six. Our friend had obtained a large post-coach giving ample
room for four persons, but, like all such carriages in Java, it was so
heavy and clumsy that both the driver and a footman, who was perched up
in a high box behind, had to constantly lash our four little ponies to
keep them up to even a moderate rate of speed. Our ride of ten miles
was over a well-graded road, beautifully shaded for most of the way
with tamarind-trees. Parallel with the carriage-roads, in Java, there
is always one for buffaloes and carts, and in this manner the former
are almost always kept in prime order. Such a great double highway
begins at Angir, on the Strait of Sunda, and extends throughout the
whole length of the island to Banyuwangi, on the Strait of Bali. It
passes near Bantam and Batavia, and thence along the low lands near
the north coast to Cheribon and Samarang, thence south of Mount Japara
and so eastward. This, I was informed, was made by Marshal Daendals,
who governed Java under the French rule in 1809. There is also a
military road from Samarang to Surakarta and Jokyokarta, where the two
native princes now reside. Java also enjoys a very complete system of
telegraphic communication. On the 23d of October, 1856, the first line,
between Batavia (Weltevreden) and Buitenzorg, was finished. Immediately
after, it was so rapidly extended that, in 1859, 1,670 English miles were
completed. A telegraphic cable was also laid in that year from Batavia up
the Straits of Banca and Rhio to Singapore; but, unfortunately, it was
broken in a short time, probably by the anchor of some vessel in those
shallow straits. After it had been repaired it was immediately broken
a second time, and in 1861 the enterprise was given up, but now they
are laying another cable across the Strait of Sunda, from Angir to the
district of Lampong; thence it will extend up the west coast to Bencoolen
and Padang, and, passing across the Padang plateau, through Fort de Rock
and Paya Kombo, come to the Strait of Malacca, and be laid directly
across to Singapore.
These Javanese ponies go well on a level or down-hill, but when the road
becomes steep they frequently stop altogether. In the hilly parts of
Java, therefore, the natives are obliged to fasten their buffaloes to
your carriage, and you must patiently wait for those sluggish animals to
take you up to the crest of the elevation.
Our road that morning led over a low country, which was devoted wholly
to rice and sugar-cane. Some of these rice-fields stretched away on
either hand as far as the eye could see, and appeared as boundless as
the ocean. Numbers of natives were scattered through these wide fields,
selecting out the ripened blades, which their religion requires them to
cut off _one by one_. It appears an endless task thus to gather in all
the blades over a wide plain. These are clipped off near the top, and
the rice in this state, with the hull still on, is called “paddy.” The
remaining part of the stalks is left in the fields to enrich the soil.
After each crop the ground is spaded or dug up with a large hoe, or
ploughed with a buffalo, and afterward harrowed with a huge rake; and to
aid in breaking up the clods, water to the depth of four or five inches
is let in. This is retained by dikes which cross the fields at right
angles, dividing them up into little beds from fifty to one hundred feet
square. The seed is sown thickly in small plats at the beginning of the
rainy monsoon. When the plants are four or five inches high they are
transferred to the larger beds, which are still kept overflowed for some
time. They come to maturity about this time (June 14th), the first part
of the eastern monsoon, or dry season. Such low lands that can be thus
flooded are called _sawas_. Although the Javanese have built magnificent
temples, they have never invented or adopted any apparatus that has come
into common use for raising water for their rice-fields, not even the
simple means employed by the ancient Egyptians along the hill, and which
the slabs from the palaces at Nineveh show us were also used along the
Euphrates.
Only one crop is usually taken from the soil each year, unless the fields
can be readily irrigated. Manure is rarely or never used, and yet the
_sawas_ appear as fertile as ever. The sugar-cane, however, quickly
exhausts the soil. One cause of this probably is that the whole of every
cane is taken from the field except the top and root, while only the
upper part of the rice-stalks are carried away, and the rest is burned
or allowed to decay on the ground. On this account only one-third of
a plantation is devoted to its culture at any one time, the remaining
two-thirds being planted with rice, for the sustenance of the natives
that work on that plantation. These crops are kept rotating so that the
same fields are liable to an extra drain from sugar-cane only once in
three years. On each plantation is a village of Javanese, and several of
these villages are under the immediate management of a _controleur_. It
is his duty to see that a certain number of natives are at work every
day, that they prepare the ground, and put in the seed at the proper
season, and take due care of it till harvest-time.[6]
The name of the plantation we were to see was “Seroenie.” As we neared
it, several long, low, white buildings came into view, and two or three
high chimneys, pouring out dense volumes of black smoke. By the road was
a dwelling-house, and the “fabrik” was in the rear. The canes are cut in
the field and bound into bundles, each containing twenty-five. They are
then hauled to the factory in clumsy, two-wheeled carts called _pedatis_,
with a yoke of _sapis_. On this plantation alone there are two hundred
such carts. The mode adopted here of obtaining the sugar from the cane
is the same as in our country. It is partially clarified by pouring over
it, while yet in the earthen pots in which it cools and crystallizes,
a quantity of clay, mixed with water, to the consistency of cream. The
water, filtering through, washes the crystals and makes the sugar, which
up to this time is of a dark brown, almost as white as if it had been
refined. This simple process is said to have been introduced by some one
who noticed that wherever the birds stepped on the brown sugar with their
muddy feet, in those places it became strangely white. After all the
sugar has been obtained that is possible, the cheap and impure molasses
that drains off is fermented with a small quantity of rice. Palm-wine
is then added, and from this mixture is distilled the liquor known as
“arrack,” which consequently differs little from rum. It is considered,
and no doubt rightly, the most destructive stimulant that can be placed
in the human stomach, in these hot regions. From Java large quantities
are shipped to the cold regions of Sweden and Norway, where, if it is as
injurious, its manufacturers are, at least, not obliged to witness its
poisonous effects.
After the sugar has been dried in the sun it is packed in large
cylindrical baskets of bamboo, and is ready to be taken to market and
shipped abroad.[7]
Three species of the sugar-cane are recognized by botanists: the
_Saccharum sinensis_ of China; the _Saccharum officinarum_ of India,
which was introduced by the Arabs into Southern Europe, and thence
transported to our own country[8] and the West Indies; and the _Saccharum
violaceum_ of Tahiti, of which the cane of the Malay Archipelago is
probably only a variety. This view of the last species is strengthened by
the similarity of the names for it in Malaysia and Polynesia. The Malays
call it _tabu_; the inhabitants of the Philippines, _tubu_; the Kayans
of Borneo, _turo_; the natives of Floris, between Java and Timur, and of
Tongatabu, in Polynesia, _tau_; the people of Tahiti and the Marquesas,
_to_; and the Sandwich Islanders, _ko_.
It is either a native of the archipelago or was introduced in the
remotest times. The Malays used to cultivate it then as they do now,
not for the purpose of making sugar, but for its sweet juice, and great
quantities of it are seen at this time of year in all the markets,
usually cut up into short pieces and the outer layers or rind removed.
These people appear also to have been wholly ignorant of the mode of
making sugar from it, and all the sugar, or more properly molasses, that
was used, was obtained then as it is now in the Eastern islands, namely,
by boiling down the sap of the gomuti-palm (_Borassus gomuti_).[9]
Sugar from cane was first brought to Europe by the Arabs, who, as we know
from the Chinese annals, frequently visited Canpu, a port on Hanchow
Bay, a short distance south of Shanghai. Dioscorides, who lived in the
early part of the first century, appears to be the earliest writer in the
West who has mentioned it. He calls it _saccharon_, and says that “in
consistence it was like salt.” Pliny, who lived a little later in the
same century, thus describes the article seen in the Roman markets in his
day: “Saccharon is a honey which forms on reeds, white like gum, which
crumbles under the teeth, and of which the largest pieces are of the size
of a filbert.” (Book xii., chap. 8.)
This is a perfect description of the sugar or rock-candy that I found the
Chinese manufacturing over the southern and central parts of China during
my long journeyings through that empire, and at the same time it is not
in the least applicable to the dark-brown, crushed sugar made in India.
CHAPTER III.
THE FLORA AND FAUNA OF THE TROPICAL EAST.
_June 15th._—At 8 A. M. we left our anchorage off Surabaya, and steamed
down the Madura Strait for Macassar, the capital of Celebes. Along the
shores of the strait were many villages of fishermen, and bamboo weirs
extending out to a distance of five or six miles from both the Java
and Madura shores, and showing well how shallow the water must be so
far from land. During the forenoon it was nearly calm, but the motion
of the steamer supplied a pleasant air. In the afternoon the wind rose
to a light breeze from the east. At noon we passed Pulo Kambing (“Goat
Island”), a small, low coral island off the south coast of Madura. Near
by was a fleet of small fishing-boats, each containing two men, who were
only protected from the broiling sun by a hat and a narrow cloth about
the loins. These boats and other larger ones farther out to sea were
extremely narrow, and provided with outriggers.
Madura receives its name from a Hindu legend, which makes it the abode of
the demigod, Baladewa. It has but one mountain-range, and that crosses it
from north to south. It is, therefore, not well watered, and unsuitable
for raising rice; and many of its people have been obliged to migrate to
the adjoining fertile shores of Java. The coffee-tree is raised on this
island, but the land is best adapted for pasturage of the _sapi_, which
is similar in its habits to our own neat-cattle, and never wallows in
mires and morasses like the buffalo. In the mountains on the western part
of Java, a wild species, the _banteng_ (_Bos sondaicus_), is still found.
It is not regarded as the source of the _sapi_, but a fertile cross is
obtained from the two, and this intermediate breed is said to be the one
used on Bali and Lombok. The _sapi_ is found on all the islands to and
including Timur, on Borneo, Celebes, and the Spice Islands, and has been
introduced into the Philippines since their discovery, and now lives in a
wild state on Luzon, just as the cattle of the pampas in South America,
which have also descended from the domesticated breeds imported by the
Spaniards.
On the eastern end of the island, which is quite low, great quantities
of salt are obtained by evaporating water in “pans,” or small areas
enclosed with low dikes, like rice-fields. It is also manufactured in a
similar manner at several places on the north coast of Java and on the
western shore of Luzon, in the province of Pangasinan. Generally the
coasts of the islands throughout the archipelago are either too high,
or so low as to form merely muddy morasses, which are mostly covered
with a dense growth of mangroves. In some places on the south coast of
Java, sea-water is sprinkled over sand. When this water has evaporated,
the process is repeated. The sand is then gathered, and water filtered
through it and evaporated by artificial heat. In Borneo, and among some
of the Philippines, marine plants are burned, and the lye made from their
ashes is evaporated for the sake of the salt contained in the residuum.
All through the interior, and among the mountains, houses are built for
storing it, and officials are appointed to dispose of it to the natives.
The quantity yearly manufactured for the government at all the various
places is about 40,000 koyangs, or 80,000 tons; but it is not allowed to
be shipped and used until it is five years old, and a supply of 200,000
koyangs, or 400,000 tons, is therefore constantly kept on hand. It is
deposited in the government store-houses by individuals at one-third of
a guilder per picul. It is then transported and sold at a great profit
by the government, which monopolizes the traffic in this necessary
condiment, and obtains a large portion of its revenue in this manner.[10]
In the afternoon we were abreast the high Tenger (i. e., wide or
spacious) mountains. Here is the famous “Sandy Sea,” a strange thing on
an island covered with such luxuriant vegetation as everywhere appears in
Java. To reach it one has to climb an old volcano to a height of about
7,500 feet above the sea, when he suddenly finds himself on the rim of
an old crater of an irregular elliptical form, with a minor axis of
_three and a half_ and a major axis of _four and a half miles_. It is the
largest crater in Java, and one of the largest in the world. Its bottom
is a level floor of sand, which in some places is drifted by the wind
like the sea, and is properly named in Malay the Laut Pasar, or “Sandy
Sea.” From this sandy floor rise four cones, where the eruptive force
has successively found vent for a time, the greatest being evidently the
oldest, and the smallest the present active Bromo, or Brama, from the
Sanscrit Brama, the god of fire. The position and relation of this Bromo,
as compared to the surrounding crater, is entirely analogous to those
that exist between Vesuvius and Monte Somma. The outer walls of this old
mountain are of trachytic lava, and Dr. Junghuhn thinks its history may
be summed up thus: first, a period when the trachyte was formed; this
was followed by a period of trachytic lavas, then of obsidian; fourth,
of obsidian and pumice-stone; fifth, the sand period, during which an
enormous quantity of sand was thrown out, and the present sandy floor
formed with the cones rising from it; and sixth, the present ash-period,
during which only fine ashes are thrown out from time to time, and steam
and sulphurous acid gas are constantly emitted.
The earliest descriptions of this crater represent it nearly as it is
seen at the present day; but great eruptions, similar to the one supposed
to have occurred, have been witnessed by Europeans since they first
came to Java. In the year 1772 the volcano Papandayang, which is near
the south coast of Java, and about in Long. 108° E., threw out such
an immense quantity of scoriæ and ashes, that Dr. Junghuhn thinks a
layer nearly fifty feet thick was spread over an area within a radius
of seven miles; and yet all this was thrown out during a single night.
Forty native villages were buried beneath it, and about three thousand
souls are supposed to have perished between this single setting and
rising of the sun. Dr. Horsfield, who drew up an account of this terrible
phenomenon from the stories of the natives, wrongly supposed that “an
extent of ground, of the mountain and its environs, fifteen miles long,
and full six broad, was by this commotion swallowed up within the bowels
of the earth.”
On the 8th of July, 1822, Mount Galunggong, an old volcano, but a
few miles northeast of Papandayang, suffered a far more terrible and
destructive eruption. At noon on that day not a cloud could be seen in
the sky. The wild beasts gladly sought the friendly shades of the dense
forest; the hum of myriads of insects was hushed, and not a sound was to
be heard over the highly-cultivated declivities of this mountain, or over
the rich adjoining plain, but the dull creaking of some native cart drawn
by the sluggish buffalo. The natives, under shelter of their rude huts,
were giving themselves up to indolent repose, when suddenly a frightful
thundering was heard in the earth; and from the top of this old volcano
a dark, dense mass was seen rising higher and higher into the air, and
spreading itself out over the clear sky with such an appalling rapidity
that in a few moments the whole landscape was shrouded in the darkness of
night.
Through this thick darkness flashes of lightning gleamed in a hundred
lines, and many natives were instantly struck down to the earth by stones
falling from the sky. Then a deluge of hot water and flowing mud rose
over the rim of the old crater, and poured down the mountain-sides,
sweeping away trees and beasts and human bodies in its seething mass.
At the same moment, stones and ashes and sand were projected to an
enormous height into the air, and, as they fell, destroyed nearly every
thing within a radius of more than twenty miles. A few villages, that
were situated on high hills on the lower declivities of the mountain,
strangely escaped the surrounding destruction by being above the streams
of hot water and flowing mud, while most of the stones and ashes and sand
that were thrown out passed completely over them, and destroyed many
villages that were farther removed from the centre of this great eruption.
The thundering was first heard at half-past one o’clock. At four the
extreme violence of the eruption was past; at five the sky began to grow
clear once more, and the same sun that at noon had shed his life-giving
light over this rich landscape, at evening was casting his rays over
the same spot then changed into a scene of utter desolation. A second
eruption followed within five days, and by that time more than _twenty
thousand_ persons had lost their lives.
When the mountain could be ascended, a great valley was found, which Dr.
Junghuhn considers analogous to the “Val del Bove” on the flanks of
Ætna, except that a great depression among these movable materials could
not have such high, precipitous walls as are seen in that deep gulf.
This eruption was quite like that of Papandayang, except that there was
a lake in the bottom of this crater which supplied the hot water and the
mud, while all the materials thrown out by the former volcano were in
a dry state. In a similar way it is supposed the great crater and the
“Sandy Sea” of the Tenger Mountains were formed in ancient times. On
these Tenger Mountains live a peculiar people, who speak a dialect of the
Javanese, and, despite the zealous efforts of the Mohammedan priests,
still retain their ancient Hindu religion.
In the evening, fires appeared on the hills near the sea. This was the
last we saw of Java, which, though but one-sixth of the area of Borneo,
and one-third that of Sumatra, is by far the most important island in the
archipelago. It is to the East Indies what Cuba is to the West Indies.
In each there is a great central chain of mountains. Both shores of Cuba
are opposite small bodies of water, and are continuously low and swampy
for miles, but in Java only the north coast borders on a small sea.
This shore is low, but the southern coast, on the margin of the wide
Indian Ocean that stretches away to the Antarctic lands, is high and
bold, an exception which is in accordance with the rule that the higher
elevations are opposite the greater oceans, or, more properly, that they
stand along the borders of the ocean-beds or greatest depressions on
the surface of our globe. In Java, where the coast is rocky, the rocks
are hard volcanic basalts and trachytes, which resist the action of the
sea, and the shore-line is therefore quite regular; but in Cuba there is
a fringing of soft coral rock, which the waves quickly wear away into
hundreds of little projecting headlands and bays, and on the map the
island has a ragged border. In its geological structure, Cuba, with its
central axis of mica slates, granitic rocks, serpentines, and marbles,
has a more perfect analogue in Sumatra; for in Java the mountains,
instead of being formed by elevations of preëxisting strata, are merely
heaps of scoriæ, ashes, sand, and rock, once fluid, which have all been
ejected out of separate and distinct vents. The area of Java is estimated
at 38,250 square geographical miles; that of Cuba at about 45,000. The
length of Java is 575 geographical or 666 statute miles; that of Cuba
750 statute miles. But while the total population of Cuba is estimated
only at a million and a half, the total population of Java and Madura is
now (1865), according to official statements, 13,917,368.[11] In 1755,
after fifteen years of civil war, the total population of Java and Madura
was but 2,001,911. In a single century, therefore, it has increased more
than sixfold. This is one of the beneficial effects of a government that
can put down rebellions and all internal wars, and encourage industry.
In Cuba, of a total area of thirty million acres, it was estimated, in
1857, that only 48,572 were under cultivation, or, including pasturage,
218,161 acres. In Java and Madura, last year (1864), the cultivated
fields and the groves of cocoa-nut palms covered an area of 2,437,037
acres. In Cuba, from 1853 to 1858, the yearly exports were from
27,000,000 to 32,000,000 of dollars, and the imports of about the same
value. In Java, last year, the imports amounted to 66,846,412 guilders
(26,738,565 dollars); and the exports to the enormous sum of 123,094,798
guilders (49,237,919 dollars). During 1864 twenty-four ships arrived from
the United States, of 12,610 tons’ capacity, and three sailed for our
country, of a united capacity of 2,258 tons.[12]
Both of these great islands abound in forests, that yield large
quantities of valuable timber. Java furnishes the indestructible teak,
from which the Malays and Javanese fitted out a fleet of three hundred
vessels that besieged Malacca, two years after it had fallen into the
hands of the Portuguese. In like manner the Spaniards, between 1724 and
1796, built with timber from the forests of Cuba an armada that numbered
one hundred and fourteen vessels, carrying more than four thousand guns.
From the Cuban forests come the indestructible _lignum-vitæ_, and the
beautiful mahogany. Those jungles shelter no wild animals larger than
dogs, but these in Java are the haunts of wild oxen, tigers, one large
and two small species of leopard, the rhinoceros, two wild species of
hog, and five species of weasel. Two of the latter yield musk; and
one, the _Viverra musanga_, of the size of a cat, is also found in
the Philippines. Six species of deer are found on this island, and
two of them, the _Cervus rufa_ and _Cervus mantjac_, are sometimes
domesticated.[13] The elephant is not found in Java, though it lives in
Sumatra, Borneo, and the peninsula. Also the wild horse of Sumatra or
Celebes does not exist in Java.
Among the more noticeable birds of Java is a beautiful species of
peacock, the _Pavo spicifer_. It was represented to me as quite abundant
in some places along the south coast. The natives make very beautiful
cigar-holders from fine strips of its quills. In Sumatra it is not found,
but is represented by an allied species. Of pigeons, Java has no less
than ten species. The web-footed birds are remarkably few in species and
numbers. A single duck, a teal, and two pelicans, are said to comprise
the whole number. The white heron has already been noticed, and besides
this, ten other species have been described. One of the smallest birds in
Java, and yet, perhaps, the most important, from its great numbers, is
the rice-eater, _Fringilla oryzivora_, a kind of sparrow. Great flocks
of these birds are continually annoying the Malays as soon as the rice
is nearly grown. The natives have a very simple and effective mode
of driving them away. In the midst of a field a little bamboo house,
sufficient to shelter its occupant from the rain and scorching sunshine,
is perched high up on poles above the rice-stalks. Around each field are
placed rows of tall, flexible stakes, which are connected together by
a string. Many radiating lines of such stakes extend from the house to
those along the borders, and the child or old person on watch has simply
to pull any set of these lines in order to frighten away the birds from
any part of the field. There are seven species of owls, and when the
hooting of one is heard near any house, many of the natives believe that
sickness or some other misfortune will certainly come to the inmates
of that dwelling. Of eagles and falcons, or kites, eight species are
mentioned. One of the kites is very abundant at all the anchorages, and
so tame as to light on the rigging of a ship quite near where the sailors
are working. When it has caught any offal in its long talons, it does
not fly away at once to a perch to consume the delicious morsel at its
leisure, like many birds of prey, but is so extremely greedy that it
tears off pieces with its beak and swallows them as it slowly sails along
in the air.
When we begin to examine the luxuriant flora of these tropical islands,
almost the first tree that we notice by the shore is the tall, graceful
cocoa-nut palm. Occasionally it is found in small clumps, far from the
abode of man, for instead of being reared by his care, it often comes to
maturity alone, and then invites him to take up his abode beneath its
shade, by offering him at the same time its fruit for food, and its
leaves as ample thatching for the only kind of a hut which he thinks he
needs in an unchanging, tropical climate.
As it stands along the shore, it invariably inclines toward its parent,
the sea, for borne on the waves came the nut from which it sprang, and
now fully grown, it seeks to make a due return to its ancestor by leaning
over the shore and dropping into the ocean’s bosom rich clusters of its
golden fruit. Here, buoyed up by a thick husk which is covered with a
water-tight skin, the living kernel safely floats over the calm and the
stormy sea, until some friendly wave casts it high up on a distant beach.
The hot sun then quickly enables it to thrust out its rootlets into the
genial soil of coral sand and fragments of shells, and in a few years it
too is seen tossing its crest of plumes high over the white surf, which
in these sunny climes everywhere forms the margin of the deep-blue ocean.
When the nut is young, the shell is soft and not separate from the husk.
In a short time it turns from a pale green to a light yellow. The shell
is now formed, and on its inner side is a thin layer, so soft that it can
be cut with a spoon. The natives now call it _klapa muda_, or the young
cocoa-nut, and they rarely eat it except in this condition. As it grows
older, the exterior becomes of a wood-color, the husk is dry, and the
shell hard and surrounded on the inside with a thick, tough, oily, and
most indigestible layer, popularly known as “the meat” of the nut. This
is the condition in which it is brought to our markets, but the Malays
seldom or never think of eating it in this condition, and only value
it for its oil. To obtain this the nut is broken, and the meat scraped
out with a knife. This pulp is then boiled in a large pan, when the oil
separates, floats on the top, and is skimmed off. This oil is almost the
only substance used for lighting in the East, where far more lights are
kept burning, in proportion to the foreign population, than in our own
temperate zone, notwithstanding our long winter evenings, it being the
custom there for each man to light his house and veranda very brilliantly
every evening; and, if it is a festive occasion, rows of lamps must be
placed throughout his grounds.
The natives also are fond of such display. The common lamp which they
have for burning cocoa-nut oil is nothing but a glass tumbler. This is
partly filled with water, a small quantity of oil is then poured in,
and on this float two small splints that support a piece of pith in a
vertical position for a wick. When the oil is first made, it has a sweet,
rich taste, but in such a hot climate it soon becomes extremely rancid,
and that used for cooking should not be more than two or three days old.
The cool, clear water which the young nuts contain is a most refreshing
drink in those hot climates, far preferable, according to my taste, to
the warm, muddy water usually found in all low lands within the tropics.
Especially can one appreciate it when, exposed to the burning sun on a
low coral island, he longs for a single draught from the cold sparkling
streams among his native New-England hills. He looks around him and
realizes that he is surrounded by the salt waters of the ocean—then one
of his dark attendants, divining his desire, climbs the smooth trunk of a
lofty palm, and brings down, apparently from the sky, a nectar delicious
enough for the gods.
This tree is of such importance to the natives that the Dutch officials
are required to ascertain as nearly as possible the number of them in
their several districts. In 1861 there were in Java and Madura nearly
twenty millions of these trees, or more than three to every two natives.
Near the cocoa-nut grows the _Pandanus_, or “screw-pine,” which may be
correctly described as a trunk with branches at both ends. There are two
species of it widely distributed over the archipelago. The flowers of
one, the _P. odoratissimus_, are very fragrant and highly prized among
the Malays. In some places mats and baskets are made from its leaves. Its
woody fruit is of a spherical form, from four to six inches in diameter,
and its surface is divided with geometrical precision by projections of a
pointed pyramidal or diamond shape.
On the low lands, back from the shore, where the soil has been enriched
with vegetable mould, the banana thrives. Unlike the cocoa-nut tree, it
is seldom seen where it has not been planted by the hand of man. The
traveller, therefore, who is worn out with his long wanderings through
the thick, almost impassable, jungles, beholds with delight the long,
green, drooping leaves of this tree. He knows that he is near some native
hut where he can find a shelter from the hot sun, and slake his thirst
with the water of the cocoa-nut, and appease his hunger on bananas and
boiled rice, a simple and literally a _frugal_ meal. Out of the midst of
these drooping leaves hangs down the top of the main stem, with its fruit
decreasing in size to the end. Some near the base are already changing
from a dark green to a bright golden yellow. Those are filled with
delicious juices, and they melt in your mouth like a delicately-flavored
cream. Such bananas as can be purchased in our markets have been so
bruised, and taste so little like this fruit at its home in the tropics,
or at least in the East Indian islands, that they scarcely serve to
remind one of what he has been accustomed to enjoy. The number of the
varieties of bananas and the difference between them is as great as among
apples in our own land.
Botanists call this tree the _Musa paradisiaca_, for its fruit is so
constantly ripening throughout the year, and is such a common article of
food, that it corresponds well to “the tree that yielded her fruit every
month,” and whose “leaves were for the healing of the nations.”
Besides these plants, there are also seen on the low lands _Aroideæ_,
_Amaranthaceæ_, papilionaceous or leguminous plants, and poisonous
_Euphorbiaceæ_. The papaw (_Carica papaya_) thrives luxuriantly on most
soils. The natives are always fond of it, and I found it a most palatable
fruit, but the Europeans in the East generally consider it a too coarse
or common fruit to be placed on the table. It was evidently introduced
by the Portuguese and Spanish from the West Indies, and the Malay name
_papaya_ comes from the Spanish _papayo_.
At the height of one thousand feet ferns appear in very considerable
numbers, and here also the useful bamboo grows in abundance, though it
is found all the way down to the level of the sea. Practically this is a
tree, but botanically it is grass, though it sometimes attains a height
of seventy or eighty feet. It is used by the natives for the walls of
their huts. For this purpose it is split open and pressed out flat, and
other perpendicular and horizontal pieces hold it in place. It is also
used for masts, spear-handles, baskets, vessels of all kinds, and for
so many other necessary articles, that it seems almost indispensable to
them. Its outer surface becomes so hard when partially burned, that it
will take a sharp, almost cutting edge, and the weapons of the natives
were probably all made in this manner previous to the introduction of
iron. At the present time sharpened stakes, _ranjaus_, of this kind
are driven into the ground in the tall grass surrounding a _ladang_ or
garden, so that any native with naked feet (except the owner) will spear
himself in attempting to approach. I saw one man, on the island of Bum,
who had received a frightful, ragged wound in this way.
Above one thousand feet the palms, bananas, and papilionaceous plants
become fewer, and are replaced by the lofty fig or _waringin_, which,
with its high top and long branches, rivals the magnificent palms by the
sea-shore. The liquidambar also accompanies the fig. Orchidaceous plants
of the most wonderful forms appear on the forest-trees, and are fastened
to them so closely, that they seem to be parts of them. Here the ferns
also are seen in great variety. _Loranthaceæ_ and _Melanostomaceæ_ are
found in this zone. To this region belongs the beautiful cotton-wood
tree. Its trunk is seldom more than ten or twelve inches in diameter,
and rises up almost perpendicularly thirty feet. The bark is of a light
olive-green, and remarkably smooth and fair. The limbs shoot out in
whorls at right angles to the trunk, and, as they are separated by a
considerable space, their open foliage is in strong contrast to the
dark, dense jungle out of which they usually rise. They thrive well also
along the banks of rivers. In Java these trees are frequently used as
telegraph-posts—a purpose for which they are admirably adapted on account
of their regularity. Besides, any thing but a living post would quickly
decay in these tropical lands. The fruit is a pod, and the fibrous
substance it yields is quite like cotton. I found it very suitable for
stuffing birds.
Over this region of the fig comes that of oaks and laurels. Orchidaceous
plants and melastomas are more abundant here.
Above five or six thousand feet are _Rubiaceæ_, heaths, and cone-bearing
trees; and from this region we pass up into one where small ferns abound,
and lichens and mosses cover the rocks and hang from the trees. The
tropical world is now beneath us, and we are in the temperate zone.
The tops of all those volcanic mountains that are still in a state of
eruption are usually bare; and in others so large a quantity of the
sulphur they produce is washed down their sides by the rains that the
vegetation is frequently destroyed for some distance below their summits.
One of the great privileges of a residence in the tropics is to enjoy
the delicious fruits of those regions in all their perfection. Of all
those fruits, in my opinion, the _mangostin_ ought unquestionably to
be considered the first. This tree, a _Garcinia_, is about the size of
a pear-tree. Its Malay name is _manggusta_, whence our own, but it is
more generally known in the archipelago by the Javanese name _manggis_.
It flourishes in most of the islands from the south coast of Java to
Mindanao, the southernmost of the Philippines. On the continent it yields
well as far up the Peninsula of Malacca as Bankok, in Siam, and in the
interior to 16° N., but on the coast of the Bay of Bengal only to 14° N.
The attempts to introduce it into India have failed, but the fruit is
sometimes sent from Singapore after it has been carefully coated with
wax to exclude the air. In Ceylon they have only partially succeeded
in cultivating it. All the trials to raise it in the West Indies have
proved unsuccessful, so that this, the best of all tropical fruits, is
never seen on our continent. Its limited geographical range is the more
remarkable, for it is frequently seen flourishing in the East Indian
islands on all kinds of soils, and there is reason to suppose that it has
been introduced into the Philippines within a comparatively late period,
for in 1685 Dampier did not notice it on Mindanao. The fruit is of a
spherical form, and a reddish-brown color. The outer part is a thick,
tough covering containing a white, opaque centre an inch or more in
diameter. This is divided into four or five parts, each of which usually
contains a small seed. This white part has a slightly-sweet taste, and
a rich yet delicate flavor, which is entirely peculiar to itself. It
tastes perhaps more like the white interior of a checkerberry than any
other fruit in our temperate climate. The thick covering is dried by the
natives and used for an astringent.
[Illustration: FRUIT MARKET.]
Several fruits claim the second place in this scale. Some Europeans would
place the _rambutan_ next the _mangostin_, and others would prefer the
mango or the _duku_. The _rambutan_ (_Nephelium lappaceum_) is nearly as
large as an apple-tree. The fruit is globular in form, and an inch or an
inch and a half in diameter. The outside is a bright-red rind, ornamented
with coarse, scattered bristles. Within is a semi-transparent pulp, of a
slightly acid taste, surrounding the seed. This tree, like the _durian_
and the _mangostin_, is wholly confined to the archipelago, and its acid
fruit is most refreshing in those hot lands. At Batavia it is so abundant
in February and March, that great quantities almost line the streets
in the market parts of the city, and small boats are seen filled to
overflowing with this bright, strawberry-colored fruit.
The mango-tree (_Mangifera indica_) is a large, thickly-branching
tree, with bright-green leaves. Its fruit is of an elliptical form,
and contains a flat stone of the same shape. Before it is ripe it is
so keenly acid, that it needs only to be preserved in salt water to
be a nice pickle for the table, especially with the universal curry.
As it ripens, the interior changes from green to white, and then to a
bright yellow. A tough outer skin being removed, there is seen a soft,
almost pulpy, but somewhat fibrous mass within. Some of these fruits are
extremely rich, and quite aromatic, while others have a sharp smack of
turpentine. They even vary greatly in two localities, which may be but
a few miles apart. Rumphius informs us that it was introduced into the
moluccas by the Dutch in 1655. It has also been introduced into Zanzibar
and Madagascar. When the Spaniards first visited the Philippines it was
not noticed, but now it is very common in those islands, and considerable
quantities of it are shipped to China, where I was frequently assured
it was very delicious; but those who have tasted this or any other
tropical fruit from only one locality are by no means competent judges.
At Singapore I found some very nice ones that had been brought down from
Siam. It also flourishes in India, and Mr. Crawfurd thinks, from the fact
that the Malay and Javanese names are evidently only corruptions of the
old Sanscrit, that it was originally brought into the archipelago from
the continent, and should not be regarded as indigenous.
The _duku_ is another highly-esteemed fruit. The tree is tall, and
bears a loose foliage. From its trunk and limbs little branchlets grow
out, bearing in long clusters the fruit, which is about the size of a
robin’s egg. The outer coating of this fruit is thin and leathery, and
of a dull-yellow color. This contains several long seeds, surrounded
by a transparent pulp, which is sweet or pleasantly acid. The seeds
themselves are intensely bitter. The natives, however, invariably prefer
the _durian_ to all other fruits. The _Durio zibethinus_ is a very large
tree. Its fruit is spherical in form, six or eight inches in diameter,
and generally covered with many sharply-pointed tubercles. This exterior
is a hard shell. Within it is divided into several parts. On breaking
the shell, a seed, as large as a chestnut, is found in each division,
surrounded by a pale-yellow substance of the consistency of thick cream,
and having an odor of putrid animal matter, so strong that a single fruit
is enough to infect the air in a large house. In the season for this
fruit the whole atmosphere in the native villages is filled with this
detestable odor. The taste of this soft, salvy, half-clotted substance
is well described by Mr. Crawfurd as like “fresh cream and filberts.” It
seems paradoxical to state that the same substance may violate a man’s
sense of smell, and yet gratify his sense of taste at the same time, but
the natives certainly are most passionately fond of it, and I once met
a foreigner who assured me that when he had once smelled this fruit he
could never be satisfied till he had eaten some of it. Its simple odor
is generally quite enough for all Europeans. It thrives well in Sumatra,
Java, the Spice Islands, and Celebes, and is found as far north as
Mindanao. On the continent forests of it exist on the Malay Peninsula,
and it is successfully raised as far north in Siam as the thirteenth or
fourteenth parallel. On the coast of the Bay of Bengal it is grown as far
north as Tenasserim, in Lat. 14° N. It flourishes well on all the kinds
of soils in this area, but all attempts have failed to introduce it into
India and also into the West Indies. Its Malay name _durian_ comes from
_duri_, a thorn, and is thus applied on account of the sharp, thorny
points of the pyramidal tubercles that cover its shell. The fact, that
the Malay name is the one used wherever the fruit is known, indicates
that it originated in a Malay country, and this view is strengthened by
the circumstance that, while I was crossing Sumatra, I passed through
large forests mostly composed of these trees in the high lands near the
sources of the Palembang River.
Another far-famed fruit is the bread-fruit. It grows on a tree, the
_Artocarpus incisa_, which attains a height of forty or fifty feet. It
will be noticed at once by the stranger, on account of its enormous,
sharply-lobed leaves, which are frequently a foot wide and a foot and
a half long. The fruit has nearly the form of a melon, and is attached
by its stem directly to the trunk or limbs. It is regarded of little
value by the Malays, but farther east, in the Society Islands, and
other parts of the South Sea, it furnishes the natives with their chief
sustenance. Just before it is ripe it is cut into slices and fried, and
eaten with a thick, black molasses, obtained by boiling down the sap of
the gomuti-palm. When prepared in this manner it tastes somewhat like a
potato, except that it is very fibrous. The seeds of this fruit in the
South Sea are said, when roasted, to be as nice as chestnuts, but I never
saw the Malays make any use of them. From the Pacific Islands it has been
introduced into the West Indies and tropical America. Another species of
this genus, the _A. integrifolia_, bears the huge “jack-fruit,” which
very closely resembles the bread-fruit. Sometimes it attains a weight of
nearly seventy-five pounds, so that one is a good load for a coolie. The
only part which the natives eat is a sweet, pulpy substance enveloping
each seed.
_June 16th._—This morning the gigantic mountain on Bali, Gunung Agung, or
“The Great Mountain,” towered up abeam of us against the southern sky.
According to Mr. Crawford it attains an elevation of twelve thousand
three hundred and seventy-nine feet, or four hundred and thirty-three
feet higher than the far-famed Peak of Teneriffe.
These mountains are only a continuation of the chain which traverses
Java, and Bali may be regarded as almost a part of Java, as it has quite
the same flora and fauna, and is only separated from that island by
a narrow strait. Here the Asiatic fauna of Sumatra, Borneo, and Java
reaches its most eastern boundary. On Lombok, the next island eastward,
a wholly different fauna is seen, having well-marked affinities with
that of Australia. According to the traditions of the Javanese, Sumatra,
Java, Bali, Lombok, and Sumbawa, were all formerly united, and afterward
separated into nine different parts, and when three thousand rainy
reasons shall have passed away they will be reunited. The dates of these
separations are given as follows:
Palembang (the eastern end of Sumatra) from Java, A. D. 1192.
Bali from Balembangan (the eastern end of Java), A. D. 1282.
Lombok from Sumbawa, A. D. 1350.
All these dates are absurdly recent, and besides, the separations, in all
probability, did not occur in the order given above. When we compare the
fauna of the continent with that of Sumatra, Java, and Borneo, we find
that Sumatra has the greatest number of species identical with those of
the Peninsula of Malacca; that Borneo has a somewhat less proportion, and
that Java has the largest number peculiar to itself. Thence we conclude
that Java was the first of these islands that was separated from the
continent, that Borneo was next detached, and Sumatra at the latest
period. Bali was probably separated from Java at a yet more recent date.
Mr. Sclater was the first to notice the fact that the dividing line
between the Asiatic fauna and that of Australia must be drawn down the
Strait of Macassar, and this observation has only been confirmed by all
who have collected in those regions since. Mr. A. R. Wallace further
ascertained that this line should be continued southward, through the
Strait of Lombok, between the island of that name and Bali. He visited
the latter island, and thus contrasts its birds with those of Lombok:
“In Bali we have barbets, fruit-thrushes, and woodpeckers; on passing
over to Lombok these are seen no more, but we have an abundance of
cockatoos, honeysuckers, and brush-turkeys (_Megapodiidæ_), which are
equally unknown in Bali, and every island farther west. The strait here
is but fifteen miles wide, so that we may pass in two hours from one
great division of the earth to another, differing as essentially in their
animal life as Europe does from America.”
The royal tiger of Sumatra and Java is also found on that part of Bali
nearest Java, but neither this nor any other feline animal exists on
Lombok.
Monkeys, squirrels, civets, and others are seen west of this dividing
line, but not east of it. Wild hogs are distributed over all the larger
islands from Sumatra to New Guinea, and even occur as far eastward as
Ceram. The flora of these islands is not divided in this manner, but
maintains quite the same character from the northern end of Timur to the
eastern end of Java.
In 1845 Mr. Earl pointed out the fact that Java, Sumatra, and Borneo, all
stand on a plateau which is only covered by a shallow sea. They therefore
not only were formerly connected, as the similarity of their faunæ shows,
but are at the present day, and a line on the map, which indicates where
the sea reaches a depth of one hundred fathoms, shows exactly where the
great basins of the Pacific and Indian Oceans really begin. Northward
this line unites the Philippines to Asia, and also proves that Formosa,
the Lew-Chew and Japanese Islands, and the Kuriles, are all parts of
the same great continent. Judging from what is known of their fauna,
Mr. Wallace thinks the separation of the Philippines from the continent
occurred before that of Java, and since that epoch they have undergone
very considerable changes in their physical geography.
In 1478, when the Hindu religion was driven out of Java, it took refuge
in Bali, where it exists to the present day. The natives here, as in
India, are divided into four castes. The first and highest includes
only the priests; the second, the soldiers; the third, the merchants;
and the fourth, and lowest, comprises the common laborers. According
to Mr. Crawford, who visited the island, the wives of the soldiers
frequently sacrifice themselves by stabbing with the _kris_, and the
body is afterward burned, and “with the princes, the sacrifice of one or
two women is indispensable.” The high mountains on Bali contain a number
of lakes or tarns, which supply many streams, and the natives are thus
enabled to irrigate their land so completely, that about twenty thousand
tons of rice are annually exported to other parts of the archipelago,
after a population of nearly three-quarters of a million is supplied.
In 1861 Java had only a population of three hundred and twenty-five to
a square mile, while Bali was supposed to have nearly five hundred, and
it is probably the most densely populated island in these seas at the
present time.
The Hindu religion also prevails over a part of Lombok. On this island a
huge mountain rises up, according to the trigonometrical measurements of
Baron van Carnbée, to a height of twelve thousand three hundred and sixty
English feet, and probably overtops every other lofty peak in the whole
archipelago.
CHAPTER IV.
CELEBES AND TIMUR.
_June 18th._—We anchored this evening close in to the coast of Celebes
on a shallow plateau, which is really only a slightly-submerged part of
the island itself. This word Celebes is not of native origin, and was
probably introduced by the Portuguese, who were the earliest Europeans
that visited this island. It first appears in the historical and
descriptive writings of De Barros,[14] who informs us that it was not
discovered until 1525, fourteen years after the Portuguese first came
to the Moluccas; but at that time they were only anxious to find the
regions where the clove and the nutmeg grew. Afterward they were induced
to search for this island from the rumors that came of the gold found
here; and, indeed, to this day, gold is obtained in the northern and
southwestern peninsulas. At first, Celebes was supposed to consist of
many islands, and this belief appears to have given it a name in a plural
form. It consists of a small, irregular, central area and four long limbs
or peninsulas, and De Cauto[15] very aptly describes it as “resembling in
form a huge grasshopper.” Two of these peninsulas extend to the south,
and are separated from each other by the Gulf of Boni: one takes an
easterly direction, and the other stretches away six degrees to the north
and northeast. In the southwest peninsula, which is the only one that has
been completely explored, two languages are spoken—the Mangkasara, in
the native tongue, or Mangkasa, in the Malay (of which word, “Macassar,”
the name of the Dutch capital, is only a corruption), and the Wugi or
Bugi, which was originally more particularly limited to the coast of the
Gulf of Boni. North of Macassar, in the most western part of the island,
is another people—the Mandhar—who speak another language. On the island
of Buton, which ought to be considered a part of the peninsula east of
the Gulf of Boni, another language is spoken. The eastern peninsula is
unexplored. The northern contains the people speaking the Gorontalo and
the Menado languages.
The primitive religion of most of these natives is supposed to have
been some form of Hinduism. De Cauto says: “They have no temples, but
pray looking up to the skies with their heads raised,” which he regards
as conclusive evidence that “they had a knowledge of the true God.”
According to the records of the Macassar people,[16] the Mohammedan
religion was first taught them by a native of Menangkabau, a province
on the plateau in the interior of Sumatra, north of the present city of
Padang. This occurred just before the arrival of the Portuguese in 1525,
and the native annals say that the doctrine of the false Prophet and of
Christianity were presented to the prince of Macassar at the same time,
and that his advisers pressed him to accept Mohammedanism, because “God
would not allow error to arrive before truth.”
In the interior live a people called by the coast tribes Turaju, who
are represented as head-hunters, and even cannibals. Barbosa[17] makes
a similar statement in regard to all the natives of this island in
his time. He says, when they came to the Moluccas to trade, they were
accustomed to ask the king of those islands to kindly deliver up to them
the persons he had condemned to death, that they might gratify their
palates on the bodies of such unfortunates, “as if asking for a hog.”
As we steamed up the coast to Macassar, the mountains in the interior
came grandly into view. They appear much more connected into chains than
in Java. One of them, Lompo-batung, rises to a height of eight thousand
two hundred feet above the sea, and is probably the loftiest peak on the
whole island.
The harbor of Macassar is formed by a long, curving coral reef, with its
convex side from the shore. At a few places this reef rises above the
surface of the water and forms low islands; but, in the heavy gales of
the western monsoon, the sea frequently breaks over it into the road with
such violence as to drive most of the native praus on shore. Near it were
fleets of fishing-boats, and this was the first place in these tropical
seas where I found a fish that, according to my taste, was as nice as
those which come from the cold waters that bathe our New-England shores.
In the road were many praus of forty or fifty tons’ burden, and some
even twice as large. In the beginning of the western monsoon they go in
great numbers to the Arru Islands, the principal rendezvous[18] for the
people of Ceram, Goram, the Ki Islands, Tenimber, Baba, and the adjacent
coast of New Guinea. Mr. Wallace, who was particularly seeking the birds
of paradise, went in one of these rude vessels to the Arrus, a distance
of one thousand miles. When Mr. Jukes was at Port Essington, in January,
1845, two of these praus were there. One had made the passage from
Macassar in ten, and another in fifteen days. But, on these long voyages,
many never return. In the last of the month a third came into that port
and reported that four others, more than had arrived safely, had just
foundered during a heavy gale, and that the crew of only one was salved.
Many go every year to the islands off the eastern end of Ceram and to
the neighboring coast of Papua, and sometimes along its northern shores
to Geelvink Bay. These long voyages indicate that the Bugis are now what
the Malays were when the Portuguese first came to the East, namely, the
great navigators and traders of the archipelago. They carry to all these
localities English calicoes and cotton goods of their own manufacture,
also Chinese gongs and large quantities of arrack. They bring in return
tortoise-shell, mother-of-pearl shell, pearls, birds of paradise, and
_tripang_, which appears to be the common Malay name for all kinds of
_Holothurians_, or “sea-cucumbers.” These latter animals abound on every
coral reef throughout the archipelago, just above and below low-water
level. As many as twenty different sorts are recognized of perhaps half
as many species. That kind is considered the most valuable which is found
on the banks of coral sand which are bare, or nearly bare, at low tide,
and are covered with a short, green sea-weed. After the animals are
collected, the intestines are removed, and they are boiled in sea-water,
in some places with the leaves of the papaw, and in others with the bark
of a mangrove-tree which gives them a bright-red color. After they have
been boiled, they are buried in the ground till the next day, when they
are spread out to dry in the sun. Sometimes they are not buried in the
ground, but dried at once on a framework of bamboo-splints over a fire.
They are now ready to be shipped to China, the only market for this
disgusting article. There the Celestials make of them one of their many
favorite soups. It is said that the Chinese cooks boil them some time
with pieces of sugar-cane to partially neutralize their rank flavor.
Many are also gathered in the Gulf of Siam and sent up the China Sea.
Mr. Crawfurd has been unable to discover any mention of _tripang_ by the
Portuguese writers, and this he regards as one proof, among others, “that
the Chinese, who chiefly carry on this trade, had not yet settled in the
archipelago when the Portuguese first appeared in it.” There are yearly
shipped from Macassar some fourteen thousand piculs of this article, of
a value of nearly six hundred thousand dollars! A few cargoes, chiefly
of coffee, from Menado and the interior, are exported each year directly
to Europe, but ships usually have to go to China for a return-freight. In
1847 Macassar was made a free port, in imitation of Singapore.
Our steamer came alongside a well-built iron pier, the only one of
any kind I had yet seen in the East. Though the mail then came but
once a month, there seemed to be no great excitement. A small group of
soldiers, with red and yellow epaulets, came down and looked on in a most
unconcerned manner, while a number of coolies gathered and began carrying
the cargo on shore—for trucks and drays are modern innovations that have
not yet appeared in these distant regions, not even to any considerable
degree in Batavia. The sea-water here is remarkably pure and clear. As we
were hauling in to the pier, several boys kept swimming round and round
the ship, and shouting out, “_Képing tuam! képing tuan!_” that is, “A
small piece of money, sir! a small piece of money, sir!” and I found that
when I threw a copper coin as large as a cent, so that it would strike
the water edgewise, even at a distance of ten feet from them, some one
would invariably catch it before it reached the bottom. This is quite as
wonderful skill as is shown by any of the natives in the South Seas.
From the pier a street leads up to a large common, and on the right side
is Fort Rotterdam, which was built soon after 1640, when the Dutch first
formed a settlement on the island, though they had been trading with
the natives since 1607. In 1660 they had driven away their rivals the
Portuguese, had conquered the natives of Macassar, and fully established
their authority over all this part of the island. Opposite the fort is
the “Societeit,” or Club-House—for every place of any considerable size
in the Netherlands India has one or two of these pleasant resorts, where
newspapers and periodicals are received, and all the social Europeans
gather in the cool evenings to enjoy a “pijt”—a small glass of gin with
bitters—or “a potje van bier,” in just the way that Irving pictures the
happy moments of Rip van Winkle. Any member may introduce a stranger, who
is at once considered one of the fraternity; and I formed many pleasant
acquaintances and passed many pleasant hours in this way. Beyond the
club-house, on a street beautifully shaded with tamarind-trees, are the
hotel and residence of the governor. I called on him, for, as I was
travelling under the patronage of the government, it was expected that I
should present myself before the highest official of each place that I
might chance to visit, and thus express my sense of the kindness of the
government toward me; and, at the same time, do what the etiquette of
the land required. The governor here most kindly offered me post-horses
free, if I would stop and travel in the territory under his immediate
command. After the heat of the day was passed, two of my merchant-friends
gave me a ride through the town, and a mile or two out into the adjoining
country, to visit the tombs of the native princes who ruled that region
before the arrival of Europeans. These tombs had, originally, been
enclosed in a house, but the roof was already gone, and the walls were
rapidly crumbling away. At the foot and head of each grave was a square
pillar. Near by were the ruins of a building which may have been the
residence of one of these princes. It was, like the house enclosing the
tombs, about thirty feet square, with an entrance on one side. In the
front, and right and left sides, were two ranges of holes, probably
designed for windows. The upper ones were small, but the lower ones were
a foot and a half in diameter. Its walls were eighteen inches thick, and
of the common coral rock. Several steps led up to the entrance, and this
and the windows were grotesquely ornamented. De Cauto informs us that
these people were accustomed “to burn their dead, and collect the ashes
in urns, which they inter in separate fields, where they erect chapels,
and for a year the relatives bring food, which they place on their tombs,
and which the dogs, cats, and birds carry off.”
We then took a delightful walk through the adjoining forest of
waringin-trees and cocoa-nut and betel-nut palms, and again and again I
wished I could have photographic views of the scenery around us to show
to my friends, for words utterly fail to convey any idea of the rich
grouping of the palms and shrubbery, and festooning vines about us, as
the setting sun shot into the luxuriant foliage long, horizontal pencils
of golden light.
Here we found the coffee-tree growing wild, and near by we came to
the tomb of a rich native merchant. It was a low, square building,
surmounted by a dome, and the whole enclosed by a wall about two feet
high, whose outer surface was covered with blue plates of porcelain. As
we approached, a monotonous, nasal chanting greeted our ears. It was made
by a native priest, who was repeating long prayers from the Koran, by the
grave of his departed friends. The notes of his minor, melancholy chant
echoed and reëchoed widely through the quiet forest, and were the more
impressive because they seemed to come from the abode of the dead. He
invited us in, and showed us his books, which were written by hand, and
yet all the characters were as neat and regular as copperplate. In the
grounds was a papaw-tree with a branch which bore at its summit leaves
and fruit like the parent stem.
On the 20th of June we sailed for Kupang, a port near the southern end
of the island of Timur. The southern extremity of the southwestern
peninsula of Celebes is low, with mountains of moderate height rising in
the interior. As we steamed past it on our way southward to Sapi Strait,
between Sumbawa on one side and Commodo and Floris[19] on the other, we
found that the eastern monsoon had already freshened to a strong breeze,
but it was steady, and the sky and sea reminded one of “the trades.” Many
flying-fish sprang out of the sea, as if too happy to remain in their
more proper element.
On the second morning from Macassar, Gunong Api, “The Burning Mountain,”
rose up majestically before us. Its high top, five thousand eight
hundred feet above the level of the sea, was hidden by horizontal clouds,
_strati_, which parted while we were observing the mountain, and let down
a band of bright sunlight over its dark sides. It is not a single but a
double peak—the one to the northwest appearing from the deep valleys and
ravines in its sides to be the older. On the eastern flanks of this peak,
near the shore, there appears to be an old crater, whose outer wall has
been washed away by the sea. For one-third of the distance from the shore
to the top of this peak there is some shrubbery in the bottoms of the
deep ravines; but the remaining two-thirds are quite bare. At its top,
this mountain ends in a small truncated cone. The southwestern peak seems
to have recently formed, for, from its top down to the shore, on the
southeast side, there is one continuous sheet of fine volcanic materials,
scored only by narrow grooves with perpendicular sides. When viewed in
profile, the unbroken sweep of its sides, from its summit to the sea,
was most majestic. It was so regular, that it was difficult to believe
it had not been shaped by the hand of man. By this time we were in the
midst of the strait between Sumbawa and Commodo, and soon we passed on
the left hand Gillibanta, whose highest point is only twelve hundred
feet above the sea. Its name in Javanese means the “one that disputes
the way.” It is merely the remnant of an old crater, whose northwestern
wall has disappeared beneath the sea. The southerly dip of the successive
overflows of lava was plainly to be seen.
On our right was Sumbawa, with its high mountains, and near its
southeastern end is Sapi, or Cattle Bay, which gives its name to the
strait. In a peninsula on the northern side of this island is Mount
Tomboro, which suffered such a terrible eruption, and caused so much
destruction of human life, in 1815. The first intimation that the people
of Java received of this frightful phenomenon was a series of explosions,
so closely resembling the reports of cannon, that at Jokyokarta, in Java,
a distance of four hundred and eighty miles, troops were marched toward
a neighboring post that was supposed to have been attacked. At Surabaya,
gunboats were sent out to assist ships that were thought to be trying to
defend themselves against pirates in the Madura Strait; and at two places
on the coast, boats put off to search for ships that were imagined to be
in distress. These reports occurred on the 5th of April, and continued
for five days, when the sky over the eastern part of Java began to be
darkened by falling ashes, and for four days they could not see the sun.
Mr. Crawfurd says that at Surabaya the sky for several months did not
become as clear as it usually is in the southeast monsoon. Northward from
Sumbawa the reports accompanying this eruption were heard as far as the
island of Ternate, near Gilolo, a distance of seven hundred and twenty
geographical miles, and so distinctly, that the Resident sent out a boat
to look for the ship which was supposed to have been firing signals. To
the westward these reports were heard at Mokomoko, a post near Bencoolen,
which is no less than nine hundred and seventy geographical miles
in a right line—as far as from New York to the Keys off the southern
extremity of Florida. The ashes that were poured into the air during
this eruption fell to the eastward, or against the prevailing wind, as
far as the middle of Floris, about two hundred and ten geographical
miles; and westward on Java, in the mountains of Cheribon, about two
hundred and seventy miles from the volcano. So great was the quantity of
ashes thrown out at this time, that it is estimated that on the island
of Lombok, about ninety miles distant, _forty-four thousand_ persons
perished in the famine that followed. Dr. Junghuhn thinks that, within a
circle described by a radius of two hundred and ten miles, the average
depth of the ashes was at least two feet; this mountain, therefore, must
have ejected several times its own mass, and yet no subsidence has been
noticed in the adjoining area, and the only change that has been observed
is, that during the eruption Tomboro lost two-thirds of its previous
height.[20] The captain of a ship dispatched from Macassar to the scene
of this terrible phenomenon states: “On approaching the coast, I passed
through great quantities of pumice-stone floating on the sea, which had
at first the appearance of shoals, so much so that I sent a boat to
examine one, which, at the distance of less than a mile, I took for a dry
sand-bank, upward of three miles in length, with black rocks in several
parts of it.” This is the kind of stones I saw floating over the sea as
we were approaching the Strait of Sunda. Besides the quantities of this
porous, foam-like lava, that are thrown directly into the sea by such
eruptions, great quantities remain on the sides of the volcano, and on
the surrounding mountains, and much of that is conveyed, during the rainy
monsoon, by the rivers to the ocean. The land at the southeast extremity
of Sumbawa appears to be composed of a light-colored clay, the strata of
which have been greatly plicated.
Several ugly rocks rise in this strait. The largest is named, in the
native tongue, “The Eye of the Devil,” and it winked at us most wickedly
out of the white surf as we passed. While in the Java Sea, before
entering the strait, we had only light winds; but, as we came into the
Indian Ocean, we experienced a strong breeze from the southeast. The
current, which had been with us and against the wind, was met off the
southwest promontory of Floris by a current with the wind from the east,
and at once the sea rose up into pyramidal masses, or formed waves that
rolled over and broke against the wind, like those from the windward
quarter of a ship which is sailing “on a wind.” High mountains also line
the Commodo and Floris side, but the scenery became especially grand as
we rounded the southwest promontory of the latter island. It reminded me
of the pictures of the precipitous coast of Scotland, except that, while
those rocks are all bare, these are all covered with the trailing plants
that have gained a foothold in the crevices of these precipices. Floris
is also called Endé, from the principal port of that name on its southern
coast. The trade of this place is mostly with Sandal-wood Island. It is
also called Mangerai, the name of the chief place on its northern shore.
The people of the latter port trade mostly with the Bugis and Malays. In
the coves and bays on the northern coast near this strait many pirates
formerly took shelter. They were merely Malays or Bugis from Bali,
Sumbawa, or Celebes. In the interior there is a people whose hair is
frizzled. A similar one also live in the interior and mountainous part of
Solor, Pintar, Lombata, and Ombay. Those living on the sea-coast belong
to the brown or Malay race. On the south coast there is a tribe called
Rakka, who are reported to be the worst kind of cannibals, accustomed not
only to devour their enemies, but the bodies of their deceased relatives.
At sunset we could just discern the outline of Sumba or Sandal-wood
Island. It appeared uniformly high, as it has always been described.
Mr. Jukes passed near its southeast point, while on a voyage in her
Britannic Majesty’s ship Fly from northern Australia to Surabaya. He
describes it as composed of ranges of hills that rise immediately from
the sea to a height of two thousand feet. The strata of these hills are
nearly level, and appeared to be composed of comminuted coral. This would
indicate that the island had undergone a great elevation during the later
tertiary period. It is probably composed mostly of volcanic rocks, like
the adjacent islands. Its area is about four thousand geographical square
miles. The most frequented harbor is near the middle of the northern
shore. Vessels go there from Surabaya, in the latter part of the western
monsoon, to purchase the active little ponies peculiar to this island,
and return in the beginning of the eastern monsoon, after having remained
there about three months. These horses are considered more valuable than
those from any other part of the archipelago, except the Batta lands, in
the interior of Sumatra. When a ship arrives, her crew at once scatter
over the whole island, visiting all the various _campongs_, or villages,
to make their purchases. A Dutch officer, who has travelled over the
island, informs me that these people have quite different features from
the natives of the adjoining island of Savu, especially the females,
whose faces are much broader. They are said to have a peculiar language,
and to be a separate nation; but I judge from all I could learn that
they form merely a subdivision of the Malay family. The captain of an
American whale-ship, which was wrecked on one of the southern points,
complained to me that the natives stole every thing he brought on shore,
and threatened him and his crew with violence; but I think it was only
because he could not speak Malay, and because each party misunderstood
the intentions of the other.
At noon the next day we saw the lofty peak of Mount Romba rising up on
Floris. It is said to be only seven thousand feet in height, but it
appeared to us as high as Mount Slamat in Java. At the eastern end of the
island, opposite Adenara and Solor, is a small Portuguese settlement,
called Laruntuka. The extreme length of the island is about two hundred
geographical miles, and its area a fraction larger than Sandal-wood
Island. It yields much sandal-wood, and the natives state that copper is
found there, but gold and iron are not known to occur. While in this part
of the Indian Ocean, generally in the morning, we had strong breezes from
the southeast, which moderated at noon, and increased again at sunset.
They varied considerably in the hour they began, and in their strength
and duration, and were quite unlike the steady trades.
At 2 P. M., on our third day from Macassar, we sighted the island of
Semao, off the bay of Kupang. Its northern end is only a rock, sparsely
covered with trees. It has no mountains, and most of its beaches are
composed of coral sand.
After dark that evening we anchored near the village of Kupang, which
is situated on the south side of a great bay, some twelve miles wide
and twenty long. This is a fine harbor now in the eastern monsoon, but
during the western monsoon it is so slightly protected by the northern
end of Semao that the sea may be said to roll directly in from the open
ocean. At such times the steamer is obliged to seek a partial shelter
under the lee of a small island on the north side of the bay. Whalers,
and merchant-ships bound to and from China in the western monsoon,
however, frequently call here, because it is the only harbor of any
kind near the southern end of the island. If the projected line of
steamers between northern Australia, Surabaya, Batavia, and Singapore,
is established, this port would be one of the places they would visit.
The village is situated on a sandy beach, that is terminated on either
hand by cliffs of coral rock, which the sea has worn out into caves and
small projecting points of the most grotesque forms. It has a population
estimated at from six to seven thousand. Its chief exports are tripang,
beeswax from the interior, and a sandal-wood, which is said to be the
best in the whole archipelago. They raise several kinds of the nicest
oranges. The Mandarin orange, probably brought originally from China, is
the most delicious of any kind of this fruit that I ever tasted. I doubt
very much whether our West India Islands, or Sicily, or any other part
of the world, can compete with Timur in the rich flavor of its oranges.
The hills around the village are only covered with a scanty vegetation,
through which the coral rock outcrops, and in every direction the whole
country, except in the valleys, presents a most barren and uninviting
aspect, compared to the richly-clothed shores of Java, and most of the
other islands we have seen. Indeed, none of the hills and high ridges
throughout all the southern half of the island are covered with such
dense forests as are seen in the eastern and northern parts of Java, and
the middle and northern parts of Celebes, and over all the higher parts
of Borneo and Sumatra.
As we passed through Sapi Strait, I noticed that, although both shores
were green, yet forests appeared to be wanting both on Sumbawa and
Floris, and this is also said to be true of Sandal-wood Island. It is
also asserted that this is somewhat the condition of the eastern end
of Java and the southern end of Celebes. Probably the cause of this
partial sterility is chiefly owing to the circumstance that the southeast
monsoon, which continues here most of the year, from about March till
November, comes over the dry, desert-like interior of Australia, and
does not become saturated with moisture on its passage over the Arafura
Sea. Most of the precipitation, therefore, that does take place on
Timur, must occur on the southeast side of the water-shed, and it is
possible that extensive forests may exist on that part of the island. The
northern half of the island, which is owned by the Portuguese, is far
more fertile, and if it were thickly inhabited, and properly cultivated,
might yield large crops of coffee. On landing, the most surprising of all
the objects that meet the eye are the natives. At that time there were
at least six different kinds in this same village, besides descendants
of Malay mothers, and Chinese, Portuguese, Dutch, English, and probably
American fathers, of every possible degree of mixture, a perfect Gordian
knot for the ablest ethnologist. Each of these varieties of natives had
some peculiarity in dress, and one wore the hair long and frizzled; but
I doubt whether they could be referred to the true Papuan type. They
appeared to be fair specimens of the aborigines, who have been already
mentioned as inhabiting the interior of Floris, Solor, Omblata, Pintar,
and Ombay. The natives of Savu are described as belonging to this same
group, which Mr. Crawfurd calls the Negro-Malayan race. The Rajah of Savu
was at Kupang while we were there, and certainly was nearly of pure Malay
blood.
Contrary to what would be supposed, from its position, the island of
Rotti, off the southern end of Timur, is inhabited by a lank-haired race,
who are probably Malays. They were represented to me, by the Resident of
Kupang, as a most peaceable people, and very different in this respect
from the wild natives of Timur. On the southeast coast of Timur, near
Mount Alias, there is said to be a tribe of black people whose hair is
frizzled, and, instead of being evenly distributed over the scalp, is
collected into little tufts, a characteristic which seems to separate
the Papuans from all other people. Mr. Earl says[21] that some of the
people on the table-land back of Dilli have “opaque yellow complexions,
the exposed parts of the skin being covered with light-brown spots or
freckles,[22] and the hair is straight, fine, and of a reddish hue, or
dark-auburn color. Every intermediate variety of hair and complexion
between this and the black, or deep-chocolate color, and the short tufted
hair of the mountain Papuan, is found in Timur.” This statement would
indicate that all the intermediate shades of difference were the results
of a mixture of the Malayan and Papuan blood, and this seems to be the
probable origin of the whole Negro-Malayan race. Its position in that
part of the archipelago nearest Papua is in entire accordance with this
hypothesis.
Tradition says that the Rajah of Kupang formerly sacrificed a young
virgin to the sharks and crocodiles once every year, but this was
generally regarded as a fable, until a gentleman visited the island of
Semao, some twenty years ago, and asserted that a rajah pointed out
to him a place on the beach of a bay near the southeast point of that
island, where “it was their custom after harvest to bring sugar-cane,
rice, fowls, eggs, pigs, dogs, and a _little child_, and offer them to
the evil spirits,” and the rajah further declared, that he had witnessed
this murderous rite himself.
As we were to remain only one day, and I was chiefly interested in
collecting shells, I at once engaged a Malay guide to conduct me to a
village near the shore, a mile westward toward Semao. Our road was a
bridle-path, a few large stones having been removed, but the ragged coral
rock everywhere projects so completely through the thin soil, that it
was a constant wonder to me how the natives could travel barefoot with
such apparent ease. We soon came to half a dozen circular huts, enclosed
by a low stone wall. They were the most wretched abodes for human beings
that I saw in all my journeys over the archipelago. The walls, instead
of being made of boards or flattened bamboos, as in the other islands,
are composed of small sticks about three feet high, driven into the
ground. These supported a conical roof, thatched with palm-leaves.
Ugly-looking pigs, with long bristles on their backs, were rooting about
these detestable hovels. Soon after, we passed a burial-place. A low
wall enclosed a small irregular plat, that was filled with earth. This
contained one or more graves, each of which had for its foot and head
stones small square pyramidal blocks of wood, with the apex fixed in the
ground. The next village we entered contained only a dozen huts. A pack
of wolf-like dogs saluted us with a fierce yelping and barking, and my
attendant, after much shouting and bustle, roused the inmates of one
of these miserable dwellings. The men were gone to fish, but the women
and children came out to gaze at us, and when their dull apprehensions
finally allowed them to realize that we had come to purchase shells, and
had a good supply of small copper coins, they briskly hunted about, and
soon brought me a large number of nautilus-shells of enormous size.
The children were nearly all entirely naked, and the women only wore a
sarong, fastened at the waist and descending to the knees. This scanty
clothing they supplied by coyly folding their arms across their breasts
as they approached to sell their shells. Those of the nautilus, they all
agreed in saying, did not come from their own shores, but from Rotti; and
a gentleman, who had been along all the neighboring shores, assured me
that he had seen the natives there dive for them, in about two fathoms at
low tide, and bring them up _alive_, and that in this way great numbers
are gathered for food.
The latter part of the western monsoon, or the changing of the monsoons,
was recommended to me as the most favorable time to collect these rare
animals. Besides the nautilus, I obtained many species of _Pteroceras_,
_Strombus_, and many beautiful cones and cypræas.
The coral rocks on the hills that we crossed contained specimens
apparently of living species, at a height which I judge was five hundred
feet above the level of the sea. I marked the whole in my notebook as
merely a coral reef of very recent elevation. Since returning, and
comparing this observation with the careful description of that region
given by Mr. Jukes,[23] in his voyage of the Fly, I find he expresses
the same view, having seen this same late formation at an estimated
height of six hundred feet above the sea; and a plateau, which rises
in the interior to the height of one thousand feet, he also suspects
is of the same origin. Mr. Schneider, however, has described a “kalk
formatie,” about Kupang, which, from its position on the map, would seem
to be identical with that seen by Mr. Jukes and myself. This formation
Mr. Schneider refers to the age of the “Coral Rag,” of the Jura, in
England. Other fossiliferous strata he regards as belonging to the old
Oölitic period, or the Lias, and underlying all he thinks is a “diorite,
or dioritic porphyry and amorphous dioritic porphyry—the last, like that
found in Humboldt’s Bay, on the north coast of New Guinea, and much like
the amorphous dioritic porphyry of Australia.” Copper-veins are found
more or less wherever the Jurassic beds appear, but in the greatest
quantity nearest the diorite.
On the evening of the 24th we steamed out of Kupang Bay, and along the
northwest coast of Timur, for Dilli; and all the way to that port we were
so completely under the lee of the land, that we had only calms, and
light airs from the southeast and east-northeast. With these light winds
we always had a very clear sky; but on coming round the southwestern end
of Floris, and also on entering Kupang Bay, each time when there was
a strong breeze from the east, the sky was remarkably thick and hazy.
Our captain, who has made many voyages, at all seasons, in these seas,
informs me that the sky is almost always thick when the eastern monsoon
has become strong. This coast of Timur is not low, like the north coast
of Java, but rises immediately up from the sea, in a succession of hills.
No gigantic and lofty peaks can be seen, as in Java, and in all the
islands east to and including Ombay; the peaks along the water-shed, on
Timur, generally rising to not more than four or five thousand feet, and
Lakaan, which is regarded as the highest in that chain, is supposed to be
only six thousand. The soil appears to be very infertile, yet when the
sun was approaching the western horizon, and the cumuli, floating in the
pure air, slowly drew along their changing shadows over the innumerable
hills and valleys, the whole scene was nearly as delightful as my first
view of the tropics in coming up the Strait of Sunda. There is no road in
the interior of the island, and every one who will travel the shortest
distance, must go on horseback along the sandy beaches.
This afternoon we passed Pulo Gula Batu, “Sugar-Loaf Island.” It is
quite high, with steep, almost perpendicular sides, which have a white,
chalky appearance, and appear to be composed of strata of coral rock,
which would indicate that it had recently been elevated above the sea.
At sunset we entered Ombay Passage, the one that ships from England and
America usually choose when going to China in the western monsoon, and
frequently when returning in the eastern monsoon. One was just then
drifting down into the Indian Ocean, on her homeward voyage. This was the
first vessel we had seen since we passed down Sapi Strait, and left the
Java Sea. It was then nearly calm, and yet I saw flying-fish come out of
the water and go a considerable distance before plunging into it again,
thus proving that they must sustain themselves in the air chiefly by a
vibrating motion of their great pectoral fins. The sun was now sinking
behind the high, dark peaks of the island of Pintar.
At daylight next morning we were steaming into a little bay surrounded
by hills of fifteen hundred to two thousand feet. At the head of the
bay and around its southern shore extended a narrow strip of level
land, bordering the bases of these high hills. On the low land are two
miserable forts, and a few houses and native huts. These comprise the
city of Dilli, the Portuguese capital in all these waters. Of all the
nations in Europe, the Portuguese were the first to discover the way to
the Indies by sea. Then, for a time, they enjoyed an undisputed monopoly
over the Eastern trade; but now the northern half of this island, the
eastern end of Floris, the city of Macao in China, and Goa in Hindustan,
are the only places of importance in all the East that continue in their
hands. The common, or low Malay language, has been more affected by the
Portuguese than any other nation, for the simple reason that those early
navigators brought with them many things that were new to the Malays,
who therefore adopted the Portuguese names for those articles. The last
governor of this place had run away a few months before we arrived,
because he had received no pay for half a year, though his salary was
only five hundred guilders per month; and a merchant at Macassar told me
that, when he arrived at that city, he did not have the means to pay his
passage back to Europe. The first inquiry, therefore, that was made, was
whether we had brought a new governor. The captain’s reply was, that he
had but one passenger in the first cabin, and the only place he appeared
to care to see in that region was the coral reef at the mouth of the
harbor.
The native boats that came off with bananas, cocoa-nuts, oranges, and
fowls, were all very narrow, only as wide as a native at the shoulders.
Each was merely a canoe, dug out of a single small tree, and built up on
the sides with pieces of wood and palm-leaves. They were all provided
with outriggers. It was then low water, and the reef was bare. It had not
been my privilege to visit a coral reef, and I was most anxious to see
one, but I could not make up my mind to risk myself in such a dangerous
skiff. The captain, with his usual kindness, however, offered me the use
of one of his large boats; and as we neared the reef, and passed over
a wide garden richly-tinted with polyps, with here and there vermilion
star-fishes scattered about, and bright-hued fishes darting hither and
thither like flashes of light, a deep thrill of pleasure ran along my
nerves, which I shall never forget to the end of my days. Here in an
hour I collected three species of beautiful star-fishes, and sixty-five
kinds of shells, almost all of the richest colors. The coral rocks, thus
laid bare by the receding tide, were all black, and not white, like the
fragments of coral seen on shores. This reef is scarcely covered at
high water, and therefore breaks off all swell from the ocean; but,
unfortunately, the entrance is narrow, and the harbor is too small for
large ships. Only two vessels were there at that time. One was a brig
from Amboina, that had come for buffaloes, or for _sapis_, and the other
was a small topsail schooner from Macassar, that had come for coffee,
which is raised in considerable quantities on the plateau back of Dilli,
and is brought down on the backs of horses. Long lines of them were seen
ascending and descending the winding paths on the steep hill-sides back
of the village. These declivities were sparsely covered with trees, but
a thick grove of cocoa-nut palms grew on the low land bordering the bay.
The name Dilli, according to Mr. Crawfurd, is identical with that of the
Malay state on the northeastern side of Sumatra, which we call Delli,
and he suspects from this fact that this area was settled by a colony of
Malays from Sumatra in the earliest times. The word Timur, in the Malay,
means “East,” and this island was probably the limit of their voyages
in that direction, hence its name. Immediately off the harbor of Dilli
lies Pulo Kambing, or Goat Island, a common name for many islands in the
archipelago. On both this island and Pintar the highest peaks are at
the southern end. North of Dilli the coast is steep, and the mountains
rise abruptly from the sea. The sides of all these elevations are deeply
scored with valleys that have been formed by the denuding action of rain.
From Dilli we steamed northward along the southeast coast of Wetta, a
high, mountainous island. Its coasts are occupied by Malays, and its
interior by a black, frizzled-haired people, allied to the inhabitants
of Timur. The bloody practice of “head-hunting” still exists among
them. North of Timur is Kissa, the most important island in this part
of the archipelago. In the early part of the present century this was
the seat of a Dutch residency. It is a low island, and the rice and
maize consumed by its inhabitants are chiefly imported from Wetta. Its
people, however, carry on a very considerable trade with the surrounding
islands, and are said to be far in advance of the natives of Amboina in
point of industry. Southeast of Kissa lies Letti, for the most part high
and hilly, but level near the sea. Kloff[24] describes the natives as
tall and well formed, and having light-brown complexions. The men wear
no other dress than a piece of cloth wrapped around the waist. The women
sometimes wear, in addition to this dress, a _kabaya_, open in front.
Polygamy is not found, and adultery is punishable with death or slavery.
When the Dutch occupied these islands, they induced the natives to change
these sentences into exile to the Banda Islands, where men were needed
to cultivate the nutmeg-trees. Neither Mohammedanism nor Hinduism has
been introduced into these islands; they only pay homage to an image of
human shape placed on a heap of stones that has been raised under a large
tree near the centre of the village. When a marriage or death, or any
remarkable event occurs, a large hog or buffalo, which has been kept and
fattened for the purpose, is slaughtered. They are especially anxious to
obtain elephants’ teeth, and hoard them up as the choicest treasures.
The morning after leaving Dilli, Roma appeared on our starboard hand. It
is very high and mountainous. In 1823 it suffered very severely from a
violent hurricane, which also caused a frightful destruction on Letti.
On the latter island the cocoa-nut trees were levelled to the ground
over considerable areas. This disaster was followed by a drought, which
destroyed all their crops, and produced great mortality among the cattle,
through lack of food. The hurricane also caused the bees to desert the
island for a time—a serious loss to the inhabitants, as wax and honey
are among their chief exports. These are taken to the Arru Islands, and
thence to Macassar and Amboina. When a chief dies, his wife takes his
place in the council, a privilege rarely granted to a woman among these
Eastern nations. East of Letti is Lakor, a dry coral bank, raised twenty
feet above the sea.
Damma soon after came into view. It is also high and mountainous, and
has a lofty volcanic peak at its northeastern extremity. In 1825 it was
pouring forth great quantities of gas. At its foot is a sulphur-spring,
such as exist at many places in Java and Celebes, in the immediate
vicinity of existing volcanic action. The doctor of Captain Kloff’s
ship, the Dourga, sent some of the crew to bathe in this spring, and he
states that “though they were so affected with rheumatism as to be not
only unfit for duty but in a state of great misery, the use of this water
contributed greatly to the improvement of their health.” Springs of this
kind are found in the district of Pekalongan, west of Mount Prau, and
are frequented by many foreigners, but I never heard that any remarkable
cure has ever been effected by the use of their waters. The nutmeg-tree
grows wild on Damma, and the _canari_ also thrives here. Thirty years
after the Dutch deserted this island, the whole population were found
to have completely relapsed into barbarism, but some of the natives of
Moa, Letti, Roma, and Kissa, continue to be Christians, and five or six
native schoolmasters are now located among those islands. Southeast of
Damma lies Baba. Its people have the odd custom of rubbing lime into
their hair, even from infancy. An English vessel that was trading here
was boarded by these wild natives, and all her crew were butchered.
Another vessel suffered a like fate at Timur-laut, that is, “Timur lying
to seaward,” an island about one hundred miles long, and one-third as
wide in its broadest part. It is customary here for each family to
preserve the head of one of their ancestors in their dwelling, and, as
if to remind them all of his valorous deeds and their own mortality,
this ghastly skull is placed on a scaffold opposite the entrance. When
a young woman marries, each ankle is adorned with heavy copper rings,
“to give forth music as she walks.” Their war customs are like those
of the Ceramese. It is said that among the mountains of this island a
black, frizzled-haired people exist. If this should prove true, they will
probably be found to be like the inhabitants of Timur and Ombay, and not
referable to the Papuan type. The inhabitants of all these islands are
constantly separated by petty feuds, or carrying on an open warfare with
each other.
We were now fully in the Banda Sea, and on the 28th of June the summit
of the Gunong Api, or “Burning Mountain” of that group, appeared above
the horizon, but, as I afterward revisited these beautiful islands, a
description of them is deferred to a future page. As we steamed away
from the Bandas, we passed out of the region of continuous dry weather
and began to enter one where the wet and dry seasons are just opposite
to what they are in all the wide area extending from the middle part
of Sumatra to the eastern end of Timur, including the southern half of
Borneo and the southern peninsulas of Celebes. In all that region the
eastern monsoon brings dry weather, though occasional showers may occur;
but at Amboina, and on the south coast of Ceram and Buru, this same wind
bears along clouds that pour down almost incessant floods. At Amboina I
was assured that sometimes it rained for two weeks at a time, without
apparently stopping for five minutes, and from what I experienced myself
I can readily believe that such a phenomenon is not of rare occurrence.
In the northern part of Celebes, at Ternate, and in the northern part
of Gillolo, and the islands between it and New Guinea, and also on the
shores of the western part of that great island, the wet and dry seasons
are not well defined. This exceptional area is mostly included within
the parallels of latitude two degrees north and two degrees south of
the equator. North of it the wind at this time of year is from the
southwest, instead of from the southeast. This dry southeast monsoon
bends round Borneo, and becomes the southwest monsoon of the China
Sea, supplying abundant rains to the northern parts of Borneo and the
Philippines. It has its origin near Australia, and thence it pushes its
way first toward the northwest and then toward the northeast across the
whole Philippine group. It appears in Timur in March, and reaches the
southern part of the China Sea in May.
CHAPTER V.
AMBOINA.
_June 29th._—We are this morning approaching Amboina, the goal of my
long journey, and the most important of the Spice Islands. Amboina is
both the name of the island and its chief city. In form the island is
nearly elliptical, and a deep, narrow bay, fourteen miles long, almost
divides it longitudinally into two unequal parts. That on the west,
which forms the main body of the island, is called Hitu; and that on
the east Laitimur, which in Malay means “the eastern leaf.” Both are
composed of high hills which rise up so abruptly from the sea that,
though this bay for one-third of its length is nearly four miles wide,
yet it perfectly resembles a frith or broad river. Along the shores are
many little bays where praus are seen at anchor, and on the beaches are
small groves of the cocoa-nut palm, which furnish food and shade to the
natives dwelling in the rude huts beneath them. Higher up the hill-sides,
large, open areas are seen covered with a tall, coarse grass; but the
richly-cultivated fields on the flanks of the mountains in Java nowhere
appear. These grassy hill-sides are the favorite burial-places with the
Chinese, for they rarely or never carry back the bones of their friends
to the sacred soil of the Celestial Land from these islands as they do
from California. Such graves are always horseshoe-shaped, just as in
China, and their white walls make very conspicuous objects on the green
hill-sides. Above the open areas, in the wooded regions, we notice a few
places filled with small trees that have a peculiar bright-green foliage.
Those are the gardens of clove-trees which have made this island so
famous throughout the world.
It is now the rainy season here, and thick rain-clouds at first
completely enshrouded us; but as we passed up the bay they slowly broke
away, and revealed on either hand high hills and mountains, which, on
the Hitu side, began to assume a most wonderful appearance. The strong
easterly wind pushed away the thick, white clouds from the exposed
sides of all these elevations, and caused them to trail off to the west
like smoke from hundreds of railroad engines, until every separate peak
appeared to have become an active volcano that was continually pouring
out dense volumes of white, opaque gas; and as these hills rose tier
above tier to high, dark mountains which formed the background, the whole
scene was most awe-inspiring, especially in this land where eruptions and
earthquakes are frequent, and only a comparatively thin crust separates
one from the earth’s internal fires.
Near the mouth of the bay the water is very deep, but eight or nine
miles within it is sufficiently shallow for an anchorage. Here also
the hills on the east or Laitimur side are separated from the beach
by a triangular, level area, about a paal[25] long, and on this has
been built the city of “Amboina” or “Ambon,” in the native language.
Viewed from the anchorage, the city has a pleasing appearance, its
streets being broad, straight, and well shaded. About half way from its
southern end is Fort Nieuw Victoria. Landing at a quay we passed through
this old stronghold out into a pretty lawn, which is surrounded by the
Societeit, or Club-House, and the residences of officials and merchants.
The total population of the city is about fourteen thousand. Of these,
seven hundred are Europeans, three hundred Chinese, and four hundred
Arabs. The others are natives. The entire population of the island is
about thirty-two thousand. Like all the cities and larger settlements
in the Dutch possessions, Amboina is divided into a native _kampong_ or
quarter, a Chinese _kampong_, and a quarter where foreigners reside.
The natives are directly under the control of a rajah or prince, and
he, in turn, is responsible to a Dutch assistant resident. In a similar
manner the Chinese are subject to a “Captain China,” who, in the larger
cities, has one or more assistants or “lieutenants.” He, likewise, must
report himself to the assistant resident. In this way each separate
people is immediately ruled by officers chosen from its own nation, and
consequently of the same views and prejudices. Justice is thus more
perfectly administered, and the hostile feelings which each of these
bigoted Eastern nations always entertains against every other are thus
completely avoided.
On leaving Batavia, Cores de Vries & Co., who then owned all the
mail-steamers in the Netherlands India, kindly gave me a letter of credit
so that I might draw on their agents from place to place, and wholly
avoid the trouble and danger of carrying any considerable sum with me.
This letter further recommended me to the kind attention of all their
employés, and Mr. Var Marle, their agent at this place, at once said
that I must make his house my home while I remained in that part of the
archipelago; and this unexpected and very generous invitation was still
more acceptable, as both he and his good lady spoke English. A chamber
was assigned me, and a large room in an adjoining out-building, where I
could store my collections and pack them up for their long transit to
America; and thus I was ready to commence my allotted work without the
least delay. I then called on His Excellency the Governor of the Spice
Islands, who received me in the most cordial manner, and said that boats,
coolies, and whatever other assistance I might need, would be immediately
ordered whenever I wished.
Amboina has long been famous for its shells, and the Dutch officials
have been accustomed for years to purchase very considerable quantities
as presents for their friends in Europe. The natives, therefore, are in
the habit of gathering them for sale, and a few have become extensive
traders in these beautiful objects. It was soon noised abroad that a
foreigner had come from a land even farther away than “Ollanda,” as
they call Holland, solely for the purpose of purchasing shells; and
immediately, to my great delight, basketful after basketful of the
species that I had always regarded as the rarest and most valuable began
to appear, every native being anxious to dispose of his lot before his
fellows, and thus obtain a share of the envied shining coin, which I
was careful to display to their gloating eyes before I should say I had
bought all I desired. Competition, here as elsewhere, had a wonderfully
depressing effect on the price of their commodities, judging from what
they asked at first and what they were finally willing to take. The
trade, however, became more brisk day after day, and some natives came
from long distances partly to sell their shells and partly to see whether
“that man” could be sane who had come so far and was spending, according
to their ideas, so much money for shells. At first I bought them by the
basketful, until all the more common species had been obtained, and then
I showed the natives the figures in Rumphius’s “Rariteit Kamer” of those
species I still wished to secure, and at the same time offered them an
extra price for others not represented in that comprehensive work. One
species I was particularly anxious to secure alive. It was the pearly
nautilus. The shell has always been common, but the animal has seldom
been described. The first was found at this place, and a description
and drawing were given by Rumphius. Afterward a dissection and drawing
were given by Professor Owen, of the British Museum, and his monograph
probably contains the most complete anatomical description that has ever
been made of any animal from a single specimen. He worked, as he himself
described it to me, with a dissecting-knife in one hand and a pencil
in the other. So little escaped his pen and pencil, that very little
information has been added by later dissections. I was so anxious to
secure one of these rare animals, that I felt that, if I should obtain
one and a few more common species, I could feel that my long journey had
been far from fruitless. Only the second day after my arrival, to my
inexpressible delight, a native brought me one still _living_. Seeing
how highly I prized it, he began by asking ten guilders (four Mexican
dollars) for it, but finally concluded to part with it for two guilders
(less than one Mexican dollar), though I should certainly have paid him
fifty if I could not have obtained it for a less price. It had been taken
in this way: the natives throughout the archipelago rarely fish with
a hook and line as we do, but, where the water is too deep to build a
weir, they use instead a _bubu_, or barrel of open basket-work of bamboo.
Each end of this barrel is an inverted cone, with a small opening at its
apex. Pieces of fish and other bait are suspended from within, and the
_bubu_ is then sunk on the clear patches of sand on a coral reef, or
more commonly out where the water is from twenty to fifty fathoms deep.
No line is attached to those on the reefs, but they are taken up with a
gaff. Those in deep water are buoyed by a cord and a long bamboo, to one
end of which a stick is fastened in a vertical position, and to this is
attached a piece of palm-leaf for a flag, to make it more conspicuous.
In this case it happened that one of these _bubus_ was washed off into
deeper water than usual, and the nautilus chanced to crawl through the
opening in one of the cones to get at the bait within. If the opening
had not been much larger than usual, it could not possibly have got in.
It was at once placed in a can containing strong arrack. I then offered
twice as much for a duplicate specimen, and hundreds of natives tried
and tried, but in vain, to procure another during the five months I was
in those seas. They are so rare even there, that a gentleman, who had
made large collections of shells, assured me that I ought not to expect
to obtain another if I were to remain at Amboina three years. Rumphius,
who usually is remarkably accurate in his descriptions of the habits of
the mollusks he figures, says it sometimes swims on the sea; but this
statement he probably received from the natives, who made such a mistake
because many empty shells are frequently found floating on the ocean.
When the animal dies and becomes separated from the shell, the latter
rises to the surface of the sea on account of the air or other gas
contained in the chambers. It is then swept away by the wind and tide to
the shore of a neighboring island. When the natives are questioned as to
where these shells come from, they invariably reply, “The sea;” and as to
where the animal lives, they merely answer, “_Dalam_,” “In the deep.” The
dead shells are so abundant on these islands, that they can be purchased
in any quantity at from four to ten cents apiece.
My first excursion from the city of Amboina was with a gentleman to a
large cocoa-garden, which he had lately planted on the high hills on the
Hitu side. A nice boat or _orangbai_—literally, “a good fellow”—took us
over the bay to the little village of Ruma Tiga, or “Three Houses.”
The boatmen were gayly dressed in white trousers with red trimmings,
and had red handkerchiefs tied round their heads. A small gong and a
_tifa_ or drum, made by tightly stretching a piece of the hide of a
wild deer over the end of a short, hollow log, gave forth a rude, wild
music, and at least served to aid the boatmen in keeping time as they
rowed. Occasionally, to break the monotony of their labor, they sang a
low, plaintive song. Instead of steering straight for the point which
we wished to arrive at on the opposite side of the bay, our helmsman
kept the boat so near the shore that we really passed round the head of
the bay, twice as far as it would have been in a right line. This mode
of _hassar_ steering, or, as the sailors express it in our language,
“hugging the shore,” I afterward found was the one universally adopted
in all this part of the archipelago. When we landed, I had the pleasure
to find, just beneath low-water level, hundreds of black sea-urchins,
with needle-like spines nearly a foot long, and so extremely sharp and
brittle, that it was very difficult to get the animals out of the little
cavities in the rocks where they had anchored themselves fast with their
many suckers. Near by, the villagers were busy boiling down the sap of
the sagaru-palm for the sugar it contains. According to my taste it is
much like maple-sugar. Up to the time that Europeans first came to the
East, this was the only kind of sugar known to the natives, and large
quantities of it are still consumed among the islands here in the eastern
part of the archipelago.
From the beach, a narrow footpath led through a grove of palm-trees into
a thick forest, and then zigzagged up a steep hill-side, until it reached
a small plateau. Here were the young cocoa-trees, filled with their long,
red, cucumber-like fruit. The original forest had been felled and burned,
and these trees had been planted in its place. Almost the only difficulty
in cultivating the cocoa-tree here is in removing the grass and small
shrubs which are continually springing up; yet the natives are all so
idle and untrustworthy that a gentleman must frequently inspect his
garden himself, if he expects it to yield a fair return. This tree,[26]
the _Theobroma cacao_, Lin., is not a native of the East. It was
discovered by the Spaniards in Mexico during the conquest of that country
by Cortez. From Mexico they took it to their provinces in South America
and the West India Islands. At present it is cultivated in Trinidad, and
in Guiana and Brazil. It probably thrives as well here as in Mexico, and
is now completely supplanting the less profitable clove-tree.
The chief article of food of the natives working in this garden is our
own yellow Indian corn, another exotic, also introduced into the East
by Europeans. It is now raised in every part of the archipelago in such
quantities as to form one of the chief articles of food for the natives.
The Dutch never use it, and generally think it strange that it should
be made into bread for the very nicest tables in our land. I never knew
the natives to grind it or pound it. They are accustomed to roast it on
the ear after the kernels have become quite hard and yellow. Our house
in this tropical garden was merely a bamboo hut, with a broad veranda,
which afforded us an ample shelter from the pouring rains and scorching
sunshine. I had been careful to take along my fowling-piece, and at once
I commenced a rambling hunt through the adjoining forest. Large flocks
of small birds, much like our blackbird, were hovering about, but they
so invariably chose to alight only on the tops of the tallest trees,
that I was a long time securing half a dozen specimens, for at every
shot they would select another distant tree-top, and give me a long walk
over tangled roots and fallen trees in the dense, almost gloomy, jungle.
As evening came on, small green parrots uttered their shrill, deafening
screams, as they darted to and fro through the thick foliage. A few of
these also entered my game-bag.
In these tropical lands, when the sun sets, it is high time for the
hunter to forsake his fascinating sport and hurry home. There is no
long, fading twilight, but darkness presses closely on the footsteps of
retreating day, and at once it is night. On my return, my friend remarked
in the coolest manner that I had secured us both a good supper; and
before I had recovered from my shock at such a suggestion, the cook had
torn out a large handful of rich feathers from the skins, and all were
spoiled for my collection; however, I consoled myself with the thought
that it did not fall to the good lot of every hunter to live in the midst
of such a wondrous vegetation and feast on parrots. In the evening, a
full moon shed broad oscillating bands of silver light through the large
polished leaves of the bananas around our dwelling, as they slowly waved
to and fro in the cool, refreshing breeze. Then the low cooing of doves
came up out of the dark forest, and the tree-toads piped out their long,
shrill notes. That universal pest, the mosquito, was also there, singing
his same bloodthirsty tune in our ears. Our beds were perched on poles,
high above the floor of the hut, that we might avoid such unpleasant
bedfellows as large snakes, which are very common and most unceremonious
visitors. That night we were disturbed but once, and then by a loud
rattling of iron pots and a general crashing of crockery; instantly I
awoke with an indefinite apprehension that we were experiencing one of
the frightful earthquakes which my friend had been vividly picturing
before we retired. The natives set up a loud hooting and shouting, and
finally the cause of the whole disturbance was found to be a lean, hungry
dog that was attempting to satisfy his appetite on what remained of our
parrot-stew.
My chief object on this excursion was to collect insects; and among some
white-leaved shrubs, near the shore, I found many magnificent specimens
of a very large, richly-colored _Papilio_. The general color of the upper
surface of its wings was a blue-black, and beneath were large patches of
bright red. Another was a blue-black above, with large spots of bright
blue. The wings of these butterflies expand five or six inches, and they
seem almost like small birds as they flit by.
It was my desire not only to obtain the same shells that Rumphius
figures, but to procure them from the same points and bays, so that there
could be no doubt about the identity of my specimens with his drawings.
I therefore proposed to travel along all the shores of Amboina and the
neighboring islands, and trade with the natives of every village, so as
to be sure of the localities myself, and, moreover, get specimens of
all the species alive, and thus have ample material for studying their
anatomy. I now realized the value of the letter with which His Excellency
the Governor-General had honored me at Batavia. I had only to apply to
the assistant resident, and he at once kindly ordered a boat and coolies
for me at the same rate as if they were employed by the government, which
was frequently less than half of what I should have been obliged to pay
if I had hired them myself; and besides, many times I could not have
obtained boats nor coolies at any price; and when the Resident ordered
them to come at a certain hour, I always found them ready.
My first excursion along the shores of the island was on the north
coast of Hitu. Two servants accompanied me, to aid in arranging the
shells, and carrying bottles of alcohol to contain the animals. From
the city of Amboina, a boat took us over the bay to Ruma Tiga, where
several coolies were waiting with a “chair” to carry me over the high
hills to the opposite shore. This “chair,” or palanquin, is merely a
common arm-chair, with a bamboo fastened on each side. A light roof
and curtains on the sides keep out the rain or hot sunshine. Usually
eight or more coolies are detailed to each chair, so that one-half may
relieve the others every few moments. The motion is much like that on
horseback, when the horse is urged into a hurried walk, and is neither
extremely unpleasant nor so very delightful as some writers who have
visited these islands have described it. In China, where only two coolies
carry a chair, the motion is far more regular and agreeable. This is the
only mode of travelling in all the islands where horses have not been
introduced, and where all the so-called roads are mere narrow footpaths,
except in the villages.
From the shore we climbed two hills, and on their crests passed through
gardens of cocoa-trees.[27] The road then was bordered on either side
with rows of pine-apples, _Ananassa sativa_, a third exotic from tropical
America. It thrives so well in every part of the archipelago, without
the slightest care, that it is very difficult to realize that it is not
an indigenous plant. The native names all point out its origin. The
Malays and Javanese call it _nanas_, which is merely a corruption of the
Portuguese _ananassa_. In Celebes it is sometimes called _pandang_, a
corruption of _pandanus_, from the marked similarity of the two fruits.
In the Philippines it is generally called _piña_, the Spanish word for
pine-cone, which has the same origin as our name pine-apple. Piña is
also the name of a cloth of great strength and durability, made by the
natives of the Philippines, from the fibres of its leaves. The Malays,
on the contrary, seldom or never make any such use of it, though it
grows so abundantly in many places that any quantity of its leaves could
be obtained for the simple trouble of gathering them. The fruit raised
here is generally regarded as inferior to that grown in the West Indies,
and the Dutch consider the variety known as “the West Indian ananas,”
that is, one that has been recently introduced, as the best. The finest
specimens of this fruit are raised in the interior of Sumatra and on the
islands about Singapore, and great quantities are exposed for sale in the
market at that city.
From the crest of the first range of hills we descended to a deep ravine,
and crossed a bridge thrown over a foaming torrent. This bridge, like
most the Dutch possessions, was covered with a roof, but left open on the
sides. The object of the roof and its projecting eaves is to keep the
boards and planks beneath dry, for whenever they are frequently soaked
with rain they quickly decay in this tropical climate. The coolies here
lunched on smoked fish and sago-cake, their common fare, and quenched
their thirst with draughts from the rapid stream. Their ragged clothing
and uncombed hair made them appear strangely out of keeping with the
luxuriant vegetation surrounding us. Crossing another high range, we
caught a view of the blue ocean, and soon descended to the village of
Hitu-lama, “Old Hitu.” The rajah received me most kindly into his house,
and assigned me a chamber. Large numbers of children quickly gathered,
and the rajah explained to them that I had come to buy shells, insects,
and every curious thing they might bring. As it was high water, and
good shells could only be found at low tide, I asked them to search
for lizards, and soon I was surprised to see them coming with a number
of real “flying-dragons,” not such impossible monsters as the Chinese
delight to place on their temples and vases, but small lizards, _Draco
volans_, each provided with a broad fold in the skin along either side
of the body, analogous to that of our flying-squirrel, and for a similar
purpose, not really for flying, but to act as a parachute to sustain
the animal in the air, while it makes long leaps from branch to branch.
Another lizard, of which they brought nearly a dozen specimens in a
couple of hours, had a body about six inches long and a tail nearly as
much longer. Knowing how impossible it is to capture these agile and wary
animals, I tried to ascertain how they succeeded in surprising so many,
but they all refused to tell, apparently from superstitious motives, and
to this day the mystery is unsolved. When these specimens were brought to
me they were always in small joints of bamboo, and when one escaped the
natives generally refused to try to catch it in their hands.
As the tide receded, shells began to come in; at first the more common
species, and rarer ones as the ebbing ceased. My mode of trading with
these people was extremely simple, my stock of Malay being very limited.
A small table was placed on the veranda in front of the rajah’s house,
and I took a seat behind it. The natives then severally came up and
placed their shells in a row on the table, and I placed opposite each
shell or each lot of shells whatever I was willing to give for them, and
then, pointing first to the money and then to the shells, remarked, _Ini
atau itu_, “This or that,” leaving them to make their own choice. In
this way all disputing was avoided, and the purchasing went on rapidly.
Whenever one man had a rare shell, and the sum I offered did not meet
his expectations, another would be sure to accept it if no more was
given; then the first would change his mind, and thus I never failed to
obtain both specimens. It was a pleasure that no one but a naturalist
can appreciate, to see such rare and beautiful shells coming in alive,
spotted cypræas, marbled cones, long _Fusi_, and _Murices_, some spiny
and some richly ornamented with varices resembling compound leaves. The
rarest shell that I secured that day was a living _Terebellum_, which
was picked up on a coral reef before the village, at low-tide level.
Afterward I procured another from the same place; but so limited does its
distribution appear to be, that I never obtained a live specimen at any
other locality.
At sunset I walked out with the rajah along the shore of the bay. Before
us lay the great island of Ceram, which the rajah called, in his musical
tongue, _Ceram tana biza_, “The great land of Ceram,” for indeed, to him,
it was a land, that is, a continent, and not in any sense a _pulo_ or
island. The departing sun was sinking behind the high, jagged peaks of
Ceram, and his last golden and purple rays seemed to waver as they shot
over the glassy but gently-undulating surface of the bay, and the broad,
deeply-fringed leaves of the cocoa-nut palms on the beach took a deeper
and richer hue in the glowing sunlight. Then a dull, heavy booming came
out of a small Mohammedan mosque, which was picturesquely placed on a
little projecting point, almost surrounded by the purple sea. This was
the low rolling of a heavy drum, calling all the faithful to assemble and
return thanks to their Prophet at the close of the departing day. The
rajah then left me to wander along the shore alone, and enjoy the endless
variety of the changing tints in the sea and sky while the daylight faded
away along the western horizon.
It was in this bay that the Dutch first cast anchor in these seas, and
this thought naturally carries us back to the early history of the
Moluccas, so famous for their spices, and so coveted by almost every
nation of Europe, as soon as enterprise and action began to dispel
the dark clouds of ignorance and superstition which had enveloped the
whole of the so-called civilized world during the middle ages. Antonio
d’Abreu, a Portuguese captain, who came here from Malacca, in 1511, is
generally regarded as the discoverer of Amboina and Banda, but Ludovico
Barthema (Vartoma), of Bologna, after visiting Malacca and Pedir, in
Sumatra, according to his own account, reached this island as early as
1506, yet his description of the Moluccas is so faulty that Valentyn
thinks he never came to this region, but obtained his information from
the Javanese and Arabs, who, as early at least as 1322, visited these
islands to purchase spices.[28] The Dutch first came to the East in the
employment of the Portuguese, and in this manner became acquainted with
its geography and its wealth. Their earliest expedition sailed from
Holland in 1594, under Houtman. His fleet first visited Bantam and the
island of Madura. At the latter place the natives seized some of his
crew, and obliged him to pay two thousand rix dollars to ransom them.
On the 3d of March, 1599, he arrived here off Hitu-lama. A serious and
continual warfare then began between the Spanish, the Portuguese, and the
Dutch, for the possession of the Moluccas, which lasted until 1610, when
the Dutch became masters of these seas, and monopolized the lucrative
trade of the nutmeg and the clove. The English also tried to secure this
valuable prize, but the Dutch finally compelled them to leave this part
of the archipelago, and have continued to hold it, except for a short
time in the early part of the present century.
The guest-chamber of my host, the rajah, was so open at the eaves that a
current of damp air blew over me all night, and I had a strong reminder
of the Batavia fever the next day. However, I continued along the shore
to Hila, where an assistant resident is stationed, whose district also
includes a part of the neighboring coast of Ceram. In the days when the
clove-tree was extensively cultivated in Amboina, this was an important
place, but now it has become almost deserted. It is chiefly famous for
its fine mangoes, the fruit of the _Mangifera Indica_.
The Resident here had two fine specimens of an enormous hermit crab, the
_Birgos latro_. The habits of this animal are most remarkable. Its food
is the cocoa-nut, and, as the ripe nuts fall from the tree, it tears off
the dry husks with its powerful claws until the end of the shell where
the three black scars are found is laid bare. It then breaks the shell
by hammering with one of its heavy claws, and the oily, fattening food
within is obtained by means of the pincer-like claws attached to its
hinder joints—so perfectly is this animal adapted to its peculiar mode of
life. They are esteemed great delicacies after they have been well fed
for a time, and these two unfortunates were destined for the table.
A rest of a couple of days stayed the fever, and a boat was ordered to
take me to Zyt, the next village, where I reaped another rich harvest of
beautiful shells. Here I purchased many _Tritons_, which the natives
had brought over from the neighboring coast of Ceram. They are quite
similar to the _Tritons_ of the Mediterranean, which in mythological
times were fancied to be the trumpets used by Neptune’s attendants to
herald the approach of the grim god, when he came up from the depths of
the ocean, and was whirled by foaming steeds over its placid surface. The
next village we visited was completely deserted, except by the rajah and
his family. The cause of this strange exodus was some misunderstanding
between the rajah and his people; and as the Dutch Government claims
the right to appoint each native prince, and had refused to remove this
rajah, all his people had deserted their homes and moved off to the
various neighboring _kampongs_, a quiet and probably an effective mode
of remonstrance. Near all these villages the beaches are lined with
cocoa-nut palms, and this is frequently the only indication that you are
approaching a _kampong_, unless, as occasionally happens, a thin column
of smoke is observed slowly rising from out the tall tree-tops. When I
wished to take water with me in our canoe, I naturally asked the rajah if
he could provide us with a bottle, but he only smiled to think I could be
so unaccustomed to tropical life, and ordered a servant to climb one of
the cocoa-nut palms above us, and cut off some of its clusters of large
green fruit. These we could carry anywhere, and open when we pleased, and
a few strokes with a heavy cleaver at once furnished us with a sparkling
fountain.
At Assilulu, the next village, I found the rajah living in such style
as I had always fancied a rich Eastern prince enjoyed. His house was
in the centre of a large village, and located on the side of a steep
hill. It covered three large terraces, and, when viewed from the landing
below, appeared like a temple. At this place, besides many rare shells,
I purchased several large cassowary-eggs, which had been brought over
from Ceram. They are about as long as ostrich-eggs, but somewhat less in
diameter, and of a green color. The bird itself belongs to the ostrich
family, its feathers being imperfectly developed and separate from each
other, and suitable only to aid it to run. One species has a spine on
each wing to enable it to defend itself, but the usual mode of attack is
by striking with the beak. In size it is twice as large as a full-grown
turkey. It is not found wild on any island west of Ceram, and those
reported from Java were all undoubtedly carried there from this part
of the archipelago. Here also I bought of the rajah a number of superb
skulls of the babirusa, _Babirusa alfurus_, literally “the hog-deer,”
a name well chosen, for its long tusks would at once suggest to these
natives the antlers of the deer, the only other wild animal of any
considerable size found on these islands. These skulls came from Buru,
the eastern limit of this remarkable species of hog.
For some time one of my servants kept alluding to several wonderful and
most valuable curiosities which this wealthy rajah was so fortunate as
to possess—curiosities indeed, according to his glowing descriptions,
compared to the shells I was continually buying. At last I asked him to
say to the rajah, that I would be greatly obliged to him if he could
show me such rare wonders, being careful not to add, that possibly
I should like to purchase one or more; for I had a strong suspicion
that the rajah had offered to give him all over a certain sum that I
might pay for them, if he could induce me to purchase them. In these
Eastern lands, when you send a servant to buy any thing, you have the
unpleasant certainty in your mind, that a large part of “the price” will
certainly lodge in his pocket; however, if you go to purchase yourself,
such exorbitant prices will be demanded, that you will either come away
without the article you need, or have the unpleasant reflection afterward
that you have been cheated worse than if you had sent your servant and
allowed him to levy his blackmail.
As I had anticipated, the rajah was not loath to show me his treasures.
They were merely half a dozen glass rings, evidently made by cutting
off a piece of a glass rod nine or ten inches long, and half an inch in
diameter. This piece, having been heated, was bent into a ring and the
two ends united by fusion. Instead of expressing surprise and delight,
as all who were looking on seemed to expect, I coolly began explaining
to the rajah what they were and how they were made. A look of surprise
and incredulity appeared on the faces of all, and the rajah at once,
in a most solemn manner, averred that so far from their being the work
of man, they had been taken out of the heads of snakes and wild boars!
Despite the dignified bearing the occasion was supposed to demand, I
could not refrain from a smile as I remarked that I had seen many
heads of those animals myself, but never before had I heard that they
carried such circular jewels in their brains. “Have you ever seen one
of these taken out yourself?” I asked. “Oh, no! They come from _Tana
Ceram_ (the land or continent of Ceram).” All who were listening, now
fearing that their rajah might be worsted in the discussion, and being
ready on every occasion to show that they were loyal subjects, abruptly
ended the argument by the unqualified assertion that every thing was
exactly as the rajah had said; and, as I was his guest, I changed the
conversation to another topic. When I returned to the city of Amboina,
I looked at once in the “Rariteit Kamer,” confident that Rumphius would
explain this remarkable and, as I afterward found, common belief; for,
though the rajah probably did not believe what he said, his credulous
subjects doubtless never thought before of calling in question such
a generally-accepted notion; such a query would, in their view, have
indicated a weak instead of an inquiring mind. This is one of the
obstacles in the way of advancement among these people. Rumphius says
that many rings were brought by the Portuguese and sold to the natives,
who prize them very highly. This accounted for their origin; and
afterward, when I came to travel over the empire of China, and noticed
how that people value similar rings of jade (nephrite), and remembered
that the coast of Ceram, opposite Assilulu, was once frequented by
the people of that empire, who came to purchase cloves and nutmegs,
it occurred to me that possibly it was from them that the Amboinese
had learned to place so high a value on such simple objects, and had
obtained their first specimens. Java is perhaps the only island in the
archipelago where such ornaments could have been made by the natives, but
I do not find that they are especially prized there, or that they have
been dug up with other relics of previous ages.
Off this coast lie three islands, the Three Brothers, and on their
shores the natives found a number of rare shells. In the streets of the
village considerable quantities of cloves that had been gathered on
the neighboring hill-sides were exposed to the sun on mats between the
frequent showers, but the culture of that spice has been so neglected of
late years, that this was the only place where I saw the fruit in all
the Moluccas. The clove-tree (_Carophyllus aromaticus_) belongs to the
order of myrtles, which also includes the pomegranate, the guava, and
the rose-apple. The trunk of the full-grown tree is from eight to twelve
inches in diameter, and occasionally much more. Its topmost branches
are usually forty or fifty feet from the ground, though I have seen
a tree not larger than a cherry-tree fully loaded with fruit. It was
originally confined to the five islands off the west coast of Gilolo,
which then comprised the whole group known as “the Moluccas,” a name
that has since been extended to Buru, Amboina, and the other islands
off the south coast of Ceram, where the clove has been introduced and
cultivated within a comparatively late period. On those five islands it
begins to bear in its seventh or eighth year, and sometimes continues
to yield until it has reached an age of nearly one hundred and fifty
years; the trees, therefore, are of very different sizes. Here at Amboina
it is not expected to bear fruit before its twelfth or fifteenth year,
and to cease yielding when it is seventy-five years old. Its limited
distribution has always attracted attention, and Rumphius, who describes
it as “the most beautiful, the most elegant, and the most precious of
all known trees,” remarks: “Hence it appears that the Great Disposer of
things in His wisdom, allotting His gifts to the several regions of the
world, placed cloves in the kingdom of the Moluccas, beyond which, by no
human industry, can they be propagated or perfectly cultivated.” In the
last observation, however, he was mistaken, for since his time it has
been successfully introduced into the island of Penang, in the Strait
of Malacca, and Sumatra, Bourbon, Zanzibar, and the coast of Guiana
and the West India Islands. The clove is the flower-bud, and grows in
clusters at the ends of the twigs. The annual yield of a good tree is
about four pounds and a half, and the yearly crop on Amboina, Haruku,
Saparua, and Nusalaut, the only islands where the tree is now cultivated,
is 350,000 Amsterdam pounds.[29] It is, however, extremely variable and
uncertain—for example, in 1846 it was 869,727 Amsterdam pounds, but in
1849 it was only 89,923, or little more than one-tenth of what it was
three years before. Pigafetta informs us that, when the Spanish first
came to the Moluccas, there were no restrictions on the culture or sale
of the clove. The annual crop at that time, 1521, according to the same
authority, reached the enormous quantity of 6,000 bahars, 3,540,000
pounds of “uncleaned,” and 4,000 bahars, 2,360,000 pounds of “cleaned”
cloves, about seventeen times the quantity obtained at the present time.
Though this statement at first appears incredible, it is strengthened
by the fact that the two ships of Magellan’s fleet that reached Tidore,
one of the Spice Islands, were filled with cloves during a stay of
only twenty-four days. When the buds are young they are nearly white,
afterward they change to a light green, and finally to a bright red, when
they must at once be gathered, which is done by picking them by hand,
or beating them off with bamboos on to cloths spread beneath the trees.
They are then simply dried in the sun, and are ready for the market.
In drying, their color is changed from red to black, the condition in
which we see them. They are gathered twice a year, at about this time,
in June, and again in the last of December. The leaves, bark, and young
twigs also have some peculiar aroma, and at Zanzibar the stems of the
buds are also gathered and find a ready sale. The favorite locations
of this tree are the high hill-sides, and it is said that it does not
thrive well on low lands, where the loam is fine and heavy. The soil
best adapted to it appears to be a loose, sandy loam. In its original
_habitat_ it grows chiefly on volcanic soil, but in Amboina and the other
islands, where it is now cultivated, it has been found to flourish well
on loams formed by the disintegration of recent sandstone and secondary
rocks. The native name for this fruit is _chenki_, perhaps a corruption
of the Chinese _tkeng-ki_, “odoriferous nails.”[30] The Dutch name for
clove is _kruid-nagel_, “herb-nail,” and for the trees _nagelen-boomen_,
“nail-trees.” Our own name clove comes from the Spanish _clavo_ (Latin
_clavus_), a nail, which has also been given them on account of the
similarity of these buds to nails.
Although cloves form a favorite condiment among all nations, the
natives of these islands where they grow never eat them in any form,
and we have no reason to suppose they ever did. The only purpose for
which the Amboinese use them, so far as I am aware, is to prepare neat
models of their praus and bamboo huts, by running small wire through
the buds before they are dried. The Dutch purchase and send to Europe
so many of these models, that almost every ethnological museum contains
some specimens of this skilful workmanship. The clove probably came
into use originally by accident, and I believe the first people who
fancied its rich aroma, and warm, pungent taste, were the Chinese. The
similarity of the native name to that of the Chinese, and its marked
difference, according to De Cauto, from that of the Brahmins or Hindus,
lends probability to this view. When the Portuguese first came to these
islands, the Chinese, Arabs, Malays, Javanese, and Macassars, were all
found here trading in this article. Of the two former nations, the
Chinese were probably the first to reach this region, though the Arabs
sailed up the China Sea and carried on a large trade with the Chinese at
Canpu, a port in Hangchau Bay, south of the present city of Shanghai, in
the thirteenth century, or fully two hundred years before the Portuguese
and Spaniards arrived in these seas.
The first notice of cloves in Europe occurs in a law passed during the
reign of Aurelian the First, between A. D. 175 and 180, where they are
mentioned as forming an article of commerce from India to Alexandria;
for the Isthmus of Suez and the Red Sea formed at that time the chief
highway of Eastern trade. From these islands the cloves were first taken
by the Malays and Javanese to the peninsula of Malacca, where they passed
into the hands of the Telingas or Klings, who carried them to Calicut,
the old Capital of Malabar. Thence they were transported to the western
shores of India and shipped across the Arabian Sea, and up the Gulf of
Aden and the Red Sea to Cairo. These frequent transfers so increased the
original price, that in England, before the discovery of the Cape of Good
Hope, thirty shillings were paid for them per pound, or one hundred and
sixty-eight pounds sterling per hundred-weight, which was three hundred
and sixty times their original price. It was to make this immense profit
that the Portuguese, the Spaniards, the Dutch, and the English, were all
so anxious to find a passage to the East by sea, and why, when these
islands had been discovered, each strove to monopolize the trade itself,
and all carried on such a persistent and piratical warfare for many
years. So long as cloves were not cultivated elsewhere, and there was no
competition in the European markets, the Dutch Government made a handsome
profit by means of its monopoly; but when they were raised in other
places, the consumption of such a luxury not increasing with the supply,
the previous high price began at once to decline, and for many years
the income of the government in these islands has not been equal to its
expenses in the same region. Some have supposed that a further reduction
in the price would be followed with a corresponding greater demand, until
its consumption would become as general and as large as that of pepper;
but this view is opposed by the common decision of mankind—that pepper
is a necessary article of food, and that the clove is only a luxury.
If no attempt had been made to keep up the price of this commodity to
such a high figure in the European markets, there would have been a less
incentive to other nations to introduce it into their own colonies, and
thus the market would not have been overstocked so soon, and the price
would not have fallen so low as to make the Spice Islands a source of
loss instead of profit, except within a recent date.
All the rajahs I met were strict Mohammedans, and, improving the
privileges of their sect, had more than one wife. Soon after arriving at
each rajah’s house, I was invariably asked whether or not I was married,
and for a long time I could not imagine why I was so closely quizzed,
until the proverbial jealousy of these people occurred to me. Each
wished to know how strict a watch he was to keep over his fascinating
harem; and as I was obliged to answer all such queries in the negative,
I never even saw one of their wives. At meals only the rajah and myself
sat at the table; and as I had two servants, and each of these princes
nearly a score, we were always well served, considering our fare. Two
articles never failed to appear—chickens and rice—and to these fish was
usually added; and for luncheon and dessert always the richest bananas.
One kind, the _pisang Ambon_, or “Amboina banana,” is very common in
that region, but the one I soon learned to prefer, and the one that my
servants were always ordered to procure if possible, wherever we chanced
to halt, was the _pisang mas_, or “golden banana,” a small variety, with
a peculiarly rich, honey-like flavor, and a bright golden skin when it
is fully ripe. This rajah, I noticed, was particular to seat me at the
table so that I could only look out at the front door. The first query
he proposed at dinner was, how we are accustomed to eat in our land,
adding that, after all, no style suited him so well as dispensing with
knives and forks altogether, and adopting the simpler and more natural
mode of using one’s fingers—a style so common, that each rajah usually
keeps a supply of finger-bowls, and frequently these are worth more
than all the crockery and other glassware on the table beside. While I
was most zealously explaining in reply the superiority of our custom,
there arose a suppressed giggle behind me; the secret was out—the rajah’s
wives had been allowed to leave their close prison and look at me, while
I was so placed that I could not, without the greatest rudeness, turn
round so as to steal a glance at them. But as this noise was evidently
not a part of the proposed programme, I repressed my curiosity, and
continued my description. One topic especially they never seemed weary
of hearing about, and that was my experience as a soldier. There was
something strangely fascinating to their rude imaginations in the
scenes of blood through which I have had to pass. At first I had some
difficulty in translating my stories into good Malay, but one of my
servants fortunately spoke a little Dutch, and supplied me with a word or
sentence, as the case demanded.
From Assilulu I set off, during a heavy rain-storm, over a neighboring
mountain for the southwest shore, and after a long walk over the rocks,
sand, and shingle, we reached Lariki, where there was once a fort with a
garrison, but now the ruins of the fort, and a few old, rusty guns are
all that remain; and the only official stationed there is an _opziener_
or “overseer.” In two days, at that place, I so increased my collection,
that I had to hire eight coolies to transport it, each carrying two
baskets—one on either end of a pole about four feet long. The baskets are
made of an open framework of bamboo, covered inside with palm-leaves, and
are therefore very light and durable. The most common shell there is the
little _cypræa caput-serpentis_, or “serpent’s-head cowry,” which has a
close resemblance, both in form and color, to the head of a snake.
From Lariki the opziener accompanied me to the neighboring _kampong_
of Wakasihu. Our narrow footpath wound along the side of a rugged,
projecting crag, and the view from the outer point was very imposing. The
stormy monsoon was at its height. The heavy swell rolling in from the
open ocean broke and flung its white spray and clotted foam far and wide
over the black rocks left bare by the ebbing tide. Thick clouds, heavily
freighted with rain, were driven by the strong wind against the rugged
coast and adjoining mountains. The cocoa-nut palms that grew just above
high-water level, and leaned over toward the sea, twisted and shook their
plumy crests in a continual strife with the angry storm, and above them
the branches of great evergreens moaned and piped as they lashed to and
fro in the fitful gusts of the tempests.
At Wakasihu the old white-bearded rajah, hearing of our approach, came
out to welcome us. The opziener explained to him the object of my coming,
and immediately he ordered a large _tifa_, that hung under an adjoining
shed, to be beaten, as a warning to his people that their rajah required
them all to assemble at once before his house. The news quickly spread
that a foreigner had come to purchase shells, and the old men, young
men, women, and children all came with the treasures that had been
accumulating for months, and even years, in their miserable dwellings.
Here many perfect specimens of the richly-colored _Cassis flammea_
appeared, and also that strangely-marked shell, the _Cypræa mappa_, or
“map cowry,” so named from the irregular light-colored line over its back
where the two edges of the mantle meet when the animal is fully expanded.
They had crawled into the _bubus_ that had been sunk for fish at a depth
of several fathoms.
The trading was carried on only in Malay, but when I offered a price,
which was higher or lower than they had expected, they frequently
consulted with each other in their own peculiar dialect or _bahasa_.
This the opziener, who was a native of the city of Amboina, was as
totally unable to understand as I. He also assured me that even the
natives at Lariki, from which we had walked in half an hour, could only
understand an occasional word of the _bahasa_ of this village, and that
the people of neither village could understand a word of the _bahasa_ of
Assilulu, two or three hours’ walk beyond Lariki. In fact, as a rule,
every community that is under one rajah, and this is generally but one
village, has its own peculiar dialect, which is so different from the
dialects of every adjoining village, that all are obliged to learn Malay
in order to carry on any trade or hold any communication with their
nearest neighbors. The _bahasa_ is never a written language, and appears
to be constantly changing, for, at the city of Amboina, the natives have
completely lost their dialect since the foreigners settled among them,
and now can only speak with each other in Malay. The great diversity
in the native dialects, and the general adoption of Malay, existed at
least as early as when the Spaniards first navigated these waters, for
De Barros says: “Two facts give reason to believe that the inhabitants
of these islands consist of various and diverse nations. The first is
the inconstancy, hatred, and suspicion with which they watch each other;
and the second, the great variety of their languages; for it is not the
same with them and the Bisayans (the inhabitants of Bisaya, one of the
Philippines), where one language prevails with all. The variety, on the
contrary, is so great that no two places understand each other’s tongue.
Even the pronunciation differs widely, for some form their words in the
throat, others at the point of the tongue, others between the teeth,
and others in the palate. If there be any tongue through which they can
understand each other, it is the Malay of Malacca, to which the nobles”
(rajahs and capalas) “have lately addicted themselves since the Moors”
(Arabs) “have resorted to them for the clove.” The Malays and Javanese
probably visited these regions long before the Arabs; and they, and not
the Arabs, were the people who first taught these natives the Malay
language.
From Wakasihu I continued during a violent rain-storm along the south
coast to Laha at the mouth of the bay of Amboina, determined to cross
the bay and reach home that night, if possible. There were a number of
villages along the route, and at each I had to procure a new relay of
coolies. This caused much delay, but a foreigner soon learns that he must
have an inexhaustible stock of patience to draw on at any unexpected
moment if he is going to deal with these people. At one village they all
agreed that a neighboring stream, which we could not avoid crossing, had
become so swollen by the heavy rains, that it was absolutely impassable;
but I simply ordered them to quietly follow me, and where I could not
lead the way they might turn back. However, when we came to its banks,
we found before us a deep, foaming torrent, far more uninviting and
dangerous than I had anticipated, yet by following up its course for
half a mile, I came to a place where I made my way to the opposite bank;
but here I found myself hemmed in by a precipitous cliff, and there
could be nothing done except to beat an inglorious retreat. The natives
meantime had been trying the stream farther down, and had found a ford
where the strong current was only waist-deep, and here we safely gained
the opposite bank. After this came another stream even more difficult to
cross, and after that, still a third. Each time I almost expected that
the coolies, who were carrying over my shells, would be swept away, but
they were all so lightly clad that they succeeded in maintaining their
footing, even where the current was perfectly boiling. The streams are
changed into rapid torrents in a few hours in these islands, where the
water seems to come down from the sky in broad sheets whenever it rains.
There are few bridges, and the difficulty of crossing the small rivers is
one of the chief obstacles in travelling here during the rainy season.
However, as a compensation, there is no sultry, scorching sun. Near the
beaches where the streams flow out to the sea, they all widen into deep,
oblong pools, which are made very narrow at high-water level by the
quantities of sand thrown up by the surf. Near the low-water level they
again become broad and shallow, and during ebb-tide the best place to
cross them is on the ocean shore as far down as one can go and avoid the
danger of being swept away by the heavy surf.
It was nearly night when we reached Laha; we were all thoroughly
drenched, and had eaten nothing since morning except some half-ripe
bananas. The storm was unabated, but the rajah said it was possible to
cross the bay against the wind and waves, and three men were detailed to
paddle us six miles to the city. Our boat was a common _leper-leper_,
that is, a canoe made from the trunk of a large tree, with pieces of
plank placed on the sides to raise them to the proper height. Both ends
are sharp, and curve upward. About four feet from the bow a pole is laid
across, and another the same distance from the stern. These project
outward from the side of the boat six or eight feet, and to them is
fastened a bamboo, the whole forming what is known as an “outrigger.”
The canoes themselves are so narrow, that without these external
supports they would be even more crank than the birch-bark canoes of
our red Indians. When we launched our _leper-leper_, and placed on
board our cargo of shells, and got in ourselves, her sides were only
about four inches out of water, but I could not procure a larger boat,
so we started. It soon became so dark that all we could discern on the
neighboring shores were large fires which the natives had made from
place to place to lure the fish by night into their weirs. The wind
also increased, and the waves rose higher and began to sparkle brightly,
and occasionally a strong gust would seem to change the whole surface
of the sea into a sheet of fire. For a time my boatmen felt strong, and
encouraged each other with a wild shouting like an Indian warwhoop, and
in this way we had made more than a mile from the shore, when the wind
became much heavier, and occasionally an ugly wave broke over us. My men
still continued to paddle on until we found that we were scarcely holding
our own against the storm. Then they became discouraged and proposed
to go back, but turning round such a long, narrow boat in the midst of
a rough sea was by no means an easy matter. The man forward stopped to
rest, and just then a heavy flaw struck the front part of the boat,
whirled it round in an instant, and away we flew off before the tempest
like a race-horse. It had now become so dark and thick that, though
the natives knew every foot of the shore, they could not tell where to
steer, and it was only by paddling with all their might that we escaped
running into a mass of foaming breakers. Finally we once more reached the
shore; the rajah had some rice and fish cooked, and at midnight I took
my second meal that day. My bedroom was so open that the wind whistled
in on every side and so completely chilled me that I expected to find
myself burning with fever the next day, but the excitement counteracted
the cold, and I arrived again at Amboina safe and well. After such an
excursion several days were passed writing labels, one of which I placed
in each individual shell, a wearying and almost an endless task, but the
thought continually occurred to me that, if I should not be permitted to
return to my native land, such authentic labels in my own handwriting
would enable any one into whose hands my collection might fall to fully
accomplish the object of my long journey.
_July 23d._—This morning, at a quarter-past four, I was suddenly awaked
by some cause which, for the moment, I could not understand, but
immediately there began a low, heavy rumbling down deep in the earth.
It was not a roar, but such a rattling or quick succession of reports
as is made when a number of heavily-laden coaches are rapidly driven
down a steep street paved with round cobble-stones. At the next instant
it seemed as if some huge giant had seized my bed, and had pushed it
from him and then pulled it toward him with the greatest violence. The
gentleman and lady with whom I was residing shouted out to me: “Run out
of the house! run for your life! There is a dreadful earthquake!”
Back of the main house was the dining-room, surrounded by a low wall, and
covered with a light roof. This was our place of refuge. The gentleman
then explained to me that the shock which had just occurred was the
second, and a very severe one, and the first, which was light, was what
had so suddenly aroused me from a deep sleep. Of course, no one of us
knew but another still heavier might come at the next instant and lay all
the buildings near us in a mass of ruins, if indeed the earth should not
open and swallow us all alive. The time that elapsed between hearing
the rumbling noise and feeling the shock itself was about five seconds.
At this time of the year, in the middle of a monsoon, the wind blows
constantly day and night; but after this earthquake there was not the
slightest perceptible motion in the air. The tree-toads stopped their
steady piping, and the nocturnal insects all ceased their shrill music.
It was so absolutely quiet that it seemed as if all nature was waiting
in dread anticipation of some coming catastrophe. Such an unnatural
stillness was certainly more painful than the howling of the most violent
tempest or the roar of the heaviest thunder. Meantime, lights sprang
up here and there in the neighboring houses, and all the doors were
thrown open, that at the slightest warning everybody might run into the
street. The strange words of the Chinese, Malays, and Arabs, sounded
yet stranger in the dark, still night, as each called in a subdued but
most earnest tone to his or her relatives. The utter helplessness which
every one feels at such a time, where even the solid earth groans and
trembles beneath his feet, makes the solicitude most keenly painful. It
was half an hour—and that half hour seemed an age—before the wind began
to blow as before. Then the nocturnal animals, one after another, slowly
resumed their nightly cries, and our alarm gradually subsided as the dawn
appeared, and once more gave promise of approaching day. I had long been
anxious to witness an earthquake; but since that dreadful night there is
something in the very sound of the word that makes me almost shudder.
There is usually at least one earthquake—that is, one series of shocks—at
Amboina every year, and when eight or ten months have passed without one,
a very heavy shock is always expected.
On the 17th of February, 1674, according to Valentyn, Amboina suffered
from a heavy earthquake, and Mount Ateti, or Wawanu, on Hitu, west
of the village of Zyt, poured out a great quantity of hot mud, which
flowed down to the sea. In 1822 Dr. S. Müller visited it and found a
considerable quantity of sublimed sulphur, and some sulphurous acid gas
rising from it. Again, in 1815, when the volcano of Tomboro, or Sumbawa,
was suffering its terrible eruption, an earthquake was felt at several
places on this island. Many people described to me a series of shocks of
great violence that began on the 1st of November, 1835, and continued
three weeks. The whole population of the city were obliged to leave their
houses and live for all that time in tents and bamboo huts in the large
common back of the forts. Up to that date Amboina had been a remarkably
healthy place, but immediately afterward a gastric-bilious fever broke
out and continued until March, 1845. On the 20th of July of that year
another heavy earthquake was experienced, and this disease at once began
again, but had somewhat subsided, when, on the 18th and 20th of March,
1850, another severe shock occurred, and again for the third time it
commenced anew. This time both the governor and the assistant resident
died. At present Amboina is one of the healthiest islands in these seas.
On the 4th and 5th of November, 1699, a series of earthquakes occurred
among the mountains where the river that flows through Batavia takes its
rise. During these shocks a land-slide occurred, and the water was so
filled with mud that the canals and ramifications of the river in the
city were silted up, and their currents completely stopped. The immediate
consequence was, a large proportion of the population of that city fell
victims to a fever engendered by the great quantities of stagnant water.
No similar cause could have operated here on the island of Amboina. As
the quantity of rain, the strength and direction of the wind, and all
other meteorological phenomena, appear to have been the same as in other
years, it is evident that the disease was connected in some way with
the earthquakes, and the view has been advanced that it was caused by
quantities of poisonous gases which are supposed to have risen out of the
earth during the violent shocks.
Many fine shells were now brought me from Tulahu, a _kampong_ on the
northeast coast of Hitu, so I determined to go on my next excursion
in that direction. Two miles up the bay from the city of Amboina a
tongue of land projects out from either shore, until a passage only
five hundred yards wide is left between them. Within this passage the
sea again expands into a bay about three miles long and a mile and a
half wide. The depth of the water in the passage is sufficient for the
largest ships, yet inside it is nowhere more than twenty or twenty-five
fathoms. A large navy could anchor here, and be perfectly sheltered
from all winds and seas; but vessels rarely or never enter it, as the
road off the city is so far from the mouth of the bay that it is very
seldom any considerable swell rolls in from the ocean, and moreover,
the shores of this bay are considered extremely unhealthy on account of
fevers, while sickness of that kind is very rare at the outer anchorage.
On the eastern or Laitimur side of the bay there are several kampongs
upon the low land along the shore. Back from the low land, on the Hitu
side, there is a gradual ascent to mountains a mile or two back. One of
them, Salhutu, rises twelve hundred metres above the sea, and is the
highest peak on the island. In the shallow water around the head of the
bay grow many mangrove-trees (_Rhizophoræ_). A low isthmus of sand and
alluvium, only some thirteen hundred yards broad, and but a few feet
above high-water level, connects Laitimur with Hitu. Through this a
canal was cut in 1827 to the large bay of Baguala, in order that the
praus bound from Ceram to Amboina might avoid the long route round the
dangerous shores of Laitimur; but in twelve years this passage became
so filled up with sand as to be impassable, except for small boats, and
now they can only go to and fro during high tide, and thus whatever
there is to be transported must be carried on the backs of coolies. It
is very painful to see such valuable improvements neglected and becoming
useless, for it shows that the whole tendency in this region, instead of
being toward progress, is only toward decay. Crossing this isthmus, we
continued along the sandy shores on the north side of Baguala Bay, for
this is the only highway between the city of Amboina and the populous
islands of Haruku, Saparua, and Nusalaut, to the east. Occasionally the
path passed over a projecting point, but when it is low water the natives
usually prefer to follow along the shore, just as their fathers did for
centuries before them, although it is frequently twice as far as by the
road. In an hour and a half we came to Suli, a pretty Christian kampong.
The road then turned to the north and led us for two or three miles
over low hills of coral rock, covered with a thin layer of red soil, to
Tulahu, a village on the north coast, which contains a population of
about fifteen hundred, and is the largest on the island. Near its centre
is a mosque, for the whole community is composed of Mohammedans. As I
passed up the main street on my way to the house of the rajah, scores
of boys and men kept gathering and following, to learn from my servants
who this strange foreigner that headed the procession could be, and
what was the object of his coming. The rajah had been notified by the
Resident of my proposed visit, and received me with a profound “salaam.”
In the village was a _ruma négri_, or “house belonging to the village.”
It had been erected by the villagers, in accordance with orders from the
Dutch Government, for the accommodation of all officials and foreigners
passing that way. It was built in the usual style of foreign houses in
the East, with a broad veranda in front, an admirable place to trade
with the people. A comfortable bedroom was fitted up for me, but I dined
with the rajah. I was always careful to take a good supply of tea and
sugar on such excursions, and my servants purchased chickens, fish, and
whatever else was to be procured; in short, I bought all the food, and
the rajah helped me eat it, so that I fulfilled to the letter the order
of the governor-general that I should prove “no burden to the native
people;” but, on the contrary, as I spent many guilders for shells in
each village, my visits, in their eyes, were special blessings. Again and
again mothers would come with their children and complain most bitterly
that they had so little food and clothing, and beg me to take the shells
they had brought, and name my own price. The rajah at first could hardly
believe I should collect many shells in his village, but I asked him to
beat the _tifa_ for his _capalas_, literally “head men,” but really a
higher class of servants, whose duty it is to convey to the people the
rajah’s commands, and see them duly enforced. The capalas were ordered to
summon all those who probably had shells in their houses, that I might
invite them to trade. Meantime supper was prepared. The first object on
the table that attracted my attention was an _Octopus_, or “inkfish,” an
animal much like the squid of our own shores, which fishermen sometimes
use for bait, and which whalers know is a favorite morsel for blackfish;
but I never heard of men feasting on it before. After this questionable
dish and a chicken were disposed of, the fried fruit of the _Artocarpus
incisa_, or “bread-fruit tree,” was placed on the table. After supper I
walked through all the principal streets of the village, supported on
either side by a capala, who persistently drove all the natives out of
the street before us, and forced them to take their proper place behind
us. To give the trade more _éclat_, I took a good quantity of small
copper coins and distributed them freely among the small children as I
passed along. The result of this manœuvre was most magical; everybody
was anxious to make my acquaintance and sell me shells. Even the good
Mohammedan priest laid aside his feelings of indifference toward the
Christian stranger, and invited me under his roof. He also intimated that
he could favor me with a few species, but, as his prices were five times
as high as those of the common people, I neglected to make a selection
from his treasures.
Each evening that I was in this village the rajah insisted on my passing
hour after hour on his veranda, describing to him the foreign countries
he could name. Like many other natives who would like to be free from all
European rule, it afforded him great comfort to hear that _Tana Ollanda_
(Holland) was much smaller in area than France or England. When I came
to tell him that _Tana America_ was a still greater country, he listened
politely, but a half-incredulous smile revealed his belief that I only
spoke of it in such an enthusiastic manner because I was an American; yet
when I added, that however much other nations might wish to possess these
beautiful islands, America would never have such a desire, his knowledge
of geography seemed to have become complete at once, and he explained
to all who were listening that _Tana America_ was admitted by all to be
the largest and the most powerful of all nations. He also had an almost
endless series of questions to ask about the sovereigns of the lands I
had described, and, like a good Mohammedan, expressed his confidence that
I should speak well of the Sultan of Turkey, whom he appeared to regard
as the next in authority to the Prophet himself.
The next day I went westward to Waai, where I obtained many specimens of
the great _Trochus marmoratus_, which lives in abundance a little farther
toward the northwestern end of the island, but can only be procured alive
during the opposite monsoon. Its beautifully marbled, sea-green surface,
and bright, pearly interior have always made it a favorite ornament for
the parlor in every land. Many, wishing to improve on Nature, remove the
green outer layers either by hydrochloric or nitric acid, so as to give
the exterior also a bright nacreous iridescence. Hundreds of the heavy
opercula of these animals are found on the neighboring shores, for Nature
has provided each with this thick door, which, after it has withdrawn
itself into the shell, it can close behind it, and thus be free from all
harm.
On my return I found my house besieged with more than two hundred of
both sexes and of every age, from infancy to second childhood. Each had
a lot of shells to sell, and therefore the prices were very low; but I
was careful to pay them more than they could earn in any other way in the
same time. The women and children on all these islands are accustomed
to gather mollusks at every low tide for food, and whenever any
particularly rare or beautiful shell is found, it is always saved; and
it was for this reason that I was always confident that I could obtain
some valuable specimens in every village. Here I secured one shell, the
_Strombus latissimus_, or “thick-lipped strombus,” that I had long been
hoping to see. It lives in the deep water between these shores and the
opposite coast of Ceram, and I could not hear that it is found in any
other locality. Many species of long “spindle-shells” (_Fusi_) are found
here—some nearly smooth and some richly ornamented with tubercles.
I had now been on the island four weeks, and it was time for the monthly
mail to arrive, bringing me letters from home. This exciting thought
caused me to forget even my passion for shells, and, promising the
natives I would come again and purchase all the specimens they could
collect, I returned to the city of Amboina.
CHAPTER VI.
THE ULIASSERS AND CERAM.
The arrival of the mail here, at Amboina, causes a general rejoicing.
Indeed, it is the only thing there is to break the dull monotony of a
residence in this enervating climate, unless, as happened this month,
there is an earthquake, which affords a grand opportunity for the old
residents to describe to all newcomers the fearful shocks they have
experienced, and this they invariably do with that peculiar kind of
semi-boasting with which a veteran fights over his battles in the
presence of raw recruits. The last earthquake, which everybody witnessed,
is referred to very much as we at home speak of some violent gale that
has swept along the coast. Those who would be weather-wise in our land
here discuss the various directions from which the different shocks
came—upon which there seems a considerable variance of opinion, but I
notice that generally each company agrees with the highest dignitary
present. This was a fortunate mail for me. It brought me letters from
home, and many American papers from our consul at Batavia, who never
failed to send me the latest news all the time I was in any part of the
archipelago. Before the next mail my letters were read and re-read. The
pages of the Boston papers seemed like the faces of familiar friends,
and it was difficult not to peruse the advertisements, column by column,
before I could lay them aside. I, in turn, was able to write my friends
that already I possessed a full series of nearly all the species of
shells I had come to seek.
East of Amboina lie three islands, sometimes called the “Uliassers.”
The first and nearest to Amboina is Haruku (in Dutch Haroekoe); it is
also known to the natives as Oma, or Buwang-bessi, “Ejecting-iron.” The
second is Saparua (in Dutch Saparoea); but according to Mr. Crawfurd it
should be Sapurwa, or Sapurba, from the native numeral _Sa_ standing as
an article, and the Sanscrit, _purwa_, “source,” a name probably given
it by the Malay and Javanese traders, who came here to buy cloves long
before the Portuguese reached such a remote region, and this is made more
probable by the name of the third island Nusalaut (in Dutch Noesalaoet),
which is compounded of the Javanese word _nusa_, “an island,” and the
Malay word _laut_, “the sea.” Nusalaut, therefore, means Sea Island,
and was evidently so named because it is situated more nearly in the
open sea. The Javanese word _nusa_, which is applied, like the Malay
word _pulo_, only to small islands, enables us to trace out the early
course of the Javanese traders. At the southern end of Laitimur is a
kampong named _Nusaniva_ (niba), “Fallen Island,” perhaps because some
island, or a part of Amboina itself, had sunk in that vicinity. Near
the Banda group is Nusatelo (better taluh), “Magic Island.” Saparua is
also known to the natives as Honimoa, and Liaser, whence probably the
old name Uliassers, for this is the most important of the three islands,
and would naturally give its name to the whole group. A merchant from
Saparua, the chief place on the island of that name, was then visiting
Amboina, and kindly invited me to accompany him when he should return—an
invitation I was most happy to accept, for Rumphius received many shells
from these islands, and I anticipated obtaining some species alive, of
which I possessed only shells. A heavy storm delayed us for a week,
a frequent occurrence during the southeast monsoon. From Amboina we
followed my former route to Tulahu, which we reached at evening, the
usual time for commencing a voyage in these seas at this time of year,
because the wind generally moderates after sunset, and freshens again the
next morning soon after sunrise. We embarked at once on a large prau,
manned by eighteen natives of Saparua, and readily distinguished from
the people of Amboina by the peculiar custom of clipping the hair short
all over the head, except a narrow band along the forehead, which is
allowed to hang down over the face, and gives them a remarkably clownish
appearance. One of these men, who was coxswain or captain, steered with
a large paddle; two others were detailed to keep up the continual,
monotonous din, and which these people consider music, and the others
rowed. Our musical instruments were a huge _tifa_, that gave out a dull,
heavy sound, such as would be caused by beating a hollow log, and not
the sharp, quick rap of a drum, which, however monotonous, still has
something stirring and lively in it; and two gongs, imported from China,
and just harsh and discordant enough to please the musical tympanums of
the stupid Celestials. The tifa is beat with a piece of wood of any shape
held loosely in the right hand, while the left hand raises the note by
pressing against the edge of the vibrating skin. There is, therefore, no
such thing as a long roll or a short roll, but one unvaried beating. The
two gongs were of different sizes, and were struck alternately, but this
was so slight a change that it only made the monotony more wearisome.
Each rower had a small wooden box, about a foot long, four inches high,
and six wide, where he carried the all-important betel-nut, siri, lime,
and tobacco. It also served as a chest for his extra clothing.
[Illustration: PINANG, OR BETEL-NUT PALM.]
The betel-nut is the fruit of a tall, slender, and extremely graceful
palm, the _Areca catechu_. The trunk is usually from six to eight inches
only in diameter, but the sheaf of green leaves that springs out of its
top is thirty or forty feet from the ground. Of all the beautiful palms,
this is decidedly the most fascinating to me. Near the house in which I
lived, at Batavia, there was a long avenue of these graceful trees, and
there in the bright mornings, and cool evenings, I was accustomed to
saunter to and fro, and each time it seemed that they were more charming
than ever before. This tree grows over all tropical India, and the whole
archipelago, including the Philippines. Its Malay name is _pinang_,
hence Pulo Pinang is the Betel-nut Island. In nearly all the large
islands it has a different name, an indication that it is indigenous.
In Javanese it is called _jambi_, and a region on the north coast of
Sumatra, where it is very abundant, has therefore received that name. In
favorable situations this tree begins to bear when it is six years old,
and generally yields about a hundred nuts in a loose, conical cluster.
Each nut, when ripe, is about as large as a pullet’s egg, and of a
bright, ochreous yellow. This yellow skin encloses a husk, the analogue
of the thick husk of the cocoa-nut. Within this is a small spherical
nut, closely resembling a nutmeg, but very hard and tough, except when
taken directly from the tree. It is chewed with a green leaf of the
_siri_, _Piper betel_, which is raised only for this purpose, and such
great quantities of it are consumed in this way, that large plantations
are seen in Java solely devoted to its culture. The mode of preparing
this morsel for use is very simple: a small quantity of lime as large as
a pea is placed on a piece of the nut, and enclosed in a leaf of siri.
The roll is taken between the thumb and forefinger, and rubbed violently
against the front gums, while the teeth are closed firmly, and the lips
opened widely. It is now chewed for a moment, and then held between the
teeth and lips, so as to partly protrude from the mouth. A profusion of
red brick-colored saliva now pours out of each corner of the mouth while
the man is exerting himself at his oar, or hurrying along under a heavy
load. When he is rich enough to enjoy tobacco, a small piece of that
luxury is held with the siri between the lips and teeth. The leaf of
the tobacco is cut so fine that it exactly resembles the “fine cut” of
civilized lands; and long threads of the fibrous, oakum-like substance
are always seen hanging out of the mouths of the natives, and completing
their disgusting appearance. This revolting habit prevails not only among
the men, but also among the women, and whenever a number come together to
gossip, as in other countries, a box containing the necessary articles is
always seen near by, and a tall, urn-shaped spit-box of brass is either
in the midst of the circle or passing from one to another, that each may
free her mouth from surplus saliva. Whenever one native calls on another,
or a stranger is received from abroad, invariably the first article that
is offered him is the siri-box.
From Tulahu we crossed a strait about half a mile broad, and came under
the lee of the north side of Haruku, an oblong island, with a long point
on the east and southwest. Its extreme length is about two and a quarter
geographical miles, its greatest width one and a quarter, and its entire
area eight square geographical miles. The surface abounds in hills,
but the highest is not a thousand feet above the sea. Its population
is upward of seven thousand, and is distributed in eleven villages,
and about evenly divided between Christianity and Mohammedanism. Its
geological structure is probably like the neighboring parts of Laitimur.
It is quite surrounded by a platform of coral, which must be bare in
some places at low water. We kept near the shore, so that I could look
down deep into the clear water, and distinctly see many round massive
heads of brain-coral, _Meandrina_, and other beautiful branching forms,
_Astrea_, hundreds of massive and tubular sponges, and broad sea-fans,
_Gorgonias_, as we glided over these miniature forests and wide gardens
beneath the sea.
[Illustration: AFTER THE BATH.]
A clear sunset gave a good promise of an unusually pleasant night,
and the stars twinkled brightly as the evening came on, but the dull
vibrations of the tifa and the continual crashings of the gongs, with now
and then a wild, prolonged shout from one of the oarsmen, and a similar
chorus from the others, kept me awake till late in the night. Finally,
just as a troubled sleep was creeping over me, there was a sudden shout
from every native, and our round-bottomed prau gave a frightful lurch,
first to starboard and then to larboard. All was confusion and uproar,
and my first waking thought was that we must have run into the back of
some sea-monster, and that, perhaps, the sea-serpent was no myth after
all, for when only such savages are seen on the land for men, it is
not unreasonable that hideous, antediluvian monsters must be twisting
their long, snaky forms beneath in the deep, dark ocean. After awhile
the danger was explained: we had struck on a coral reef, though we were
at least half a mile from the shore. This indicates the width, at this
place, of the platform of coral which encircles the whole island. The
heavy swell which had scarcely affected the boat while afloat now made
her roll almost over the moment her keel touched the rock. Such rough,
projecting coral reefs are very dangerous to the best boats, for in a
few moments they will frequently grind a hole through her planks, and
immediately she sinks in the surf, while those on board find themselves
far from the shore. Pushing off, we stood directly eastward to Saparua,
four miles distant, and at half-past three entered a small bay, and were
at the kampong Haria. This island has quite the form of the letter H,
being nearly divided into two equal parts by a deep bay on the south
side and another on the north. The length of the western peninsula,
which is a little longer than that of the eastern, is two and a quarter
geographical miles, and the narrow isthmus which connects them is about a
mile wide. The peninsulas are very mountainous, the highest peaks rising
fifteen hundred feet above the sea, but the isthmus is composed of low
hills, and is mostly an open prairie. The whole area of the island is
ten square geographical miles. Its population numbers more than eleven
thousand, making it the most densely peopled of all the islands that
now produce cloves. Along its shores are no less than sixteen villages,
mostly on the two bays. Of these only three are Mohammedan, the others
are Christian. In 1817, when the English restored these islands to the
Dutch, a great rebellion broke out in this island, which it took nearly
two years to quell, and, what is remarkable, the leaders of this revolt
were Christians, that is, members of the Dutch Church.
From Haria we crossed the southern peninsula to the chief town, also
called Saparua, at the head of the southern bay. Unlike the narrow
footpaths on the island of Amboina, the roads here are broad enough for
carts, though none are used, and besides, at the end of every paal
from the chief village a small square pillar is set up, indicating the
distance from the Resident’s house, and the year it was erected. At
Saparua, my merchant-friend gave me a nice room, and the Resident, who
received me in the politest manner, said he was just planning a tour of
inspection to Nusalaut, the most eastern island of the group, and would
be happy to have me accompany him, an invitation I most gladly accepted,
for the natives had described it to me as abounding in the most beautiful
shells, and already I possessed a few rare species that had passed from
one native to another until they reached me at Amboina. He also showed me
some choice shells that had been sent to him as presents by the various
rajahs. Two were magnificent specimens of that costly wentletrap, the
_Scalaria preciosa_, for which large sums were once paid in Europe.
It was the only kind of shell which I saw or heard of during my long
travels among these islands, of which I failed to obtain, at least, one
good specimen. He also had many very fine map-cowries, which the natives
everywhere regard as rare shells.
That evening the commandant of the “schuterij,” or native militia, was to
celebrate his birthday by giving a ball at the _ruma négri_. I attended,
as a matter of politeness, but not being able to dance myself, withdrew
when they had finished the first waltz, for the anticipation of a ramble
along the neighboring shores on the morrow would have had a far greater
fascination to me than whirling until I was giddy, half embraced in the
arms of one of those dark belles, even if I had understood how to take
all their odd steps with due grace. The passion of these people for
dancing appears to be insatiable, for at eight o’clock the next morning a
good proportion of them were still whirling round and round with as much
spirit as if the _fête_ had just begun. As might naturally be expected,
these natives abhor all application and labor, in the same degree that
they are fond of excitement.
Saparua Bay is one of the most beautiful inlets of the sea. Near its head
is a bold, projecting bluff, and on this rise the white walls of Fort
Duurstede. The other parts of the shore form a semicircular, sandy beach,
which is bordered with such a thick grove of cocoa-nut palms that no one
looking from the bay would imagine that they concealed hundreds of native
houses. Here myriads of flat sea-urchins, _Clypeastridæ_, almost covered
the flats near low-water level, and completely buried themselves in the
calcareous sand as the tide left them. Thousands of little star-fish were
also found in the same locality, hiding themselves in a similar manner.
Higher up the beach among the _algæ_ were many larger star-fishes, with
the usual five rays; but, as sometimes happens among these low animals,
one specimen was provided with one arm more than his companions, and
could boast of six. Where ledges of coral rock rose out of the water,
countless numbers of the little money cowry, _Cypræa moneta_, filled the
excavations formed in this soft rock. They are seldom collected here, as
they are too small to be used for food, and these natives never use them
as a medium of exchange, as has been the custom from the earliest ages in
India.
_August 17th._—At 5 A. M. started with the Resident for Nusalaut. Our
party included the doctor stationed with the garrison, the commandant
of militia, whose birthday had been so faithfully observed the day
before, my merchant-friend, the “stuurman,” or captain, and last, and
perhaps I should add least, a little mestizo scribe, whose proper title
was “the commissie.” A strong head wind, with frequent squalls of rain,
made our progress slow till we reached a high point which the natives
called Tanjong O, the Headland O. From that point over to Nusalaut was a
distance of some two miles. As we left the shore, and pushed out into the
open sea, our progress became still slower. Inch by inch we gained till
we were half-way across, when the wind freshened, and for a time we could
scarcely hold our own, despite the increased jargon from the tifa and
the gong, and a wilder whooping from every native, varied by mutterings
from each, to the effect that he was the only one who was really working.
Almost the moment these people meet with any unexpected difficulty they
become disheartened, and want to give up their task at once, exactly like
little children.
Nusalaut, like the other Uliassers, is completely surrounded by a shallow
platform of coral, which is mostly bare at low water. We therefore
entered a small bay, where the deep water would allow our boat to come
near the shore. Coolies now waded off with chairs on their shoulders,
and landed us dry-footed on the beach, where were a dozen natives, clad
in what is supposed to have been the war-costume of their ancestors long
before the arrival of Europeans. They were quite naked, and carried in
their right hands large cleavers or swords (some of which I noticed were
made of wood). On the left arm was a narrow shield about four feet long,
and evidently more for show than use, as it was only three or four inches
wide in the middle. On the head was a kind of crown, and, as long plumes
are scarce, sticks were covered with white hen-feathers, and stuck in as
a substitute. From their shoulders and elbows hung strips of bright-red
calico, to make them look gay or fierce (it was difficult to say which).
Their war-dance consisted in springing forward and backward, and whirling
rapidly round. Forming in two lines, they fiercely brandished their
swords, as we advanced between them to a little elevation, where all the
rajahs had gathered to receive the Resident.
Nusalaut is oblong in form, less than two miles in length, and in
some places only half a mile wide. Its area, therefore, is somewhat
less than a single square mile. Its surface is hilly, but the highest
point is not more than three hundred meters above the sea, A century
and a half ago its population numbered five thousand, but at present
it is only three thousand five hundred. The number of villages, and,
consequently, of rajahs, is only seven. We first visited Sila, the one
nearest our landing. As we entered the kampong, we found the main street
ornamented in a most tasteful manner. The young, light-yellow leaves of
the cocoa-nut palm had been split in two, and were bent into bows or
arcs with the midrib uppermost, and the leaflets hanging beneath. These
bows were placed on the top of the fence, so as to form a continued
series of arches; a simple arrangement that certainly produced a most
charming effect. As we passed along, scores of heavily-loaded flint-locks
were discharged in our honor, and these mimic warriors continued their
peculiar evolutions. From Sila a short walk brought us to Lainitu, and
here our reception took a new phase. In front of the rajah’s house was
a wide triumphal arch, made of boards, and ornamented with two furious
red lions, who held up a shield containing a welcome to the Resident.
But just before we passed under that, the crowd in front parted, and lo,
before us stood eighteen or twenty young girls, who had been selected
from the whole village for their beauty. They were all arrayed in their
costliest dresses, which consisted of a bright-red sarong and a low
kabaya, over which was another of lace, the latter bespangled with many
thin pieces of silver. Their long, black hair was combed backward, and
fastened in a knot behind, and in this were stuck many long flexible
silver pins, that rapidly vibrated as they danced. Most of them had a
narrow strip of the hair over the forehead clipped short, but not shaven,
a most unsightly custom, and perhaps originally designed to make their
foreheads higher. Their lips were stained to a dull brick-red from
constantly indulging in the use of the betel. They were arranged in
two rows, and their dance, the _minari_, was nothing more than slowly
twisting their body to the right and left, and, at the same time, moving
the extended arms and open hands in circles in opposite directions. The
only motion of their naked feet was to change the weight of the body
from the heel to the toe, and _vice versa_. During the dance they sang
a low, plaintive song, which was accompanied by a tifa and a number of
small gongs, suspended by means of a cord in a framework of _gaba-gaba_,
the dried midribs of palm-leaves. The gongs increased regularly in size
from one of five or six inches to one of a foot or fifteen inches in
diameter. Each had a round knob or boss in the middle, which was struck
with a small stick. When made to reverberate in this manner, their music
was very agreeable, and resembled closely that made by small bells.
Several gentlemen informed me that this instrument was introduced here
from Java by natives of these islands, who were taken there by the Dutch
to assist in putting down a rebellion. It is merely a rude copy of the
instrument called the _bonang_ or _kromo_ in Java. The number of gongs
composing this instrument varies from six or eight to fourteen. In Java
the sticks used in striking the gongs, instead of being made only of
wood, are carefully covered with a coating of gum to make the sound
softer. Another common instrument in Java is the _gambang_, consisting
of wooden or brass bars of different lengths, placed crosswise over a
wooden trough. These are struck with small sticks composed of a handle
and a round ball of some light substance like pith, as shown in the
accompanying photograph of a Javanese and his wife. The instrument in the
left hand is a kind of flute, and that in his right is a triangle exactly
like those used in negro concerts in our land.
[Illustration: MUSICAL INSTRUMENTS USED BY THE MALAYS AT BATAVIA.]
In the Sunda districts of Java very good music is produced by an
instrument which consists of a series of small bamboo tubes of different
lengths, so placed in a rude framework of wood that they can slightly
vibrate, and strike the sides of the frame when it is shaken in the hand.
On the peninsula of Malacca a kind of gigantic Æolian harp is made, by
removing the partitions within a bamboo, thirty or forty feet long, and
making a row of holes in the side as in a flute. This is placed upright
among the dense foliage, and in the varying breeze gives out soft or
heavy notes, until the whole surrounding forest seems filled with the
harps of fairies.
All these natives are passionately fond of music, and perhaps in nothing
has their inventive genius been so well displayed as in their peculiar
musical instruments, which have been brought to the greatest perfection
in Java, where they are so elaborate that a set of eighteen or twenty
pieces, for a complete band, costs from six hundred to one thousand
dollars. A number of these were taken to England by Sir Stamford Raffles,
and carefully examined by a competent judge, who expressed himself
“astonished and delighted with their ingenious fabrication, splendor,
beauty, and accurate intonation.”
While we were watching the slow, graceful dance, dinner was prepared,
and we were summoned from the veranda to an open room in the rear. The
wife of the rajah was the only lady at the table, and, as all the princes
and notables of the other villages were present, the number of guests
who were ready to take seats with us was not small. Our bill of fare
was sufficient to satisfy the most fastidious epicure: for substantial
diet the neighboring forests had furnished us with an abundance of
venison and the meat of the wild boar, and the adjoining bays had yielded
several kinds of nice fish. All was prepared in an unexceptional manner,
and the rich display of pine-apples, mangostins, dukus, and several
kinds of bananas was finer than many a European prince could set before
his guests. The process of demolishing had fully begun, when the dark
beauties, who had been dancing before the house, came in, and ranged
themselves round the table. My first impression was, that they had come
in to see how Europeans eat, and I only refrained from hinting to that
effect to the Resident on my right, because he had already smiled to
see my surprise at our novel reception, and besides, I was anxious not
to appear to be wholly ignorant of their odd customs. Soon they began
to sing, and this, I thought to myself, is probably what is meant by a
sumptuous banquet in the East, and, if so, it well deserves the name.
As the song continued, one after another took out a handkerchief of
spotless white, and folding it into a triangular form, began to fan the
gentleman in front of her. This is indeed Eastern luxury, I said to
myself, and while I was wondering what would come next, the damsel behind
the Resident reached forward and gave him a loud kiss on his cheek. “That
was intended as an appetizer I presume?” _Natuurlijk_, “Of course,” he
replied, and I leaned back in my chair to give way to a hearty laugh,
which I had been trying for a long time to restrain, when suddenly
I was astonished by a similar salutation on the lips! It was done so
quickly that I had no time to recover from my bewildering surprise, and
coolly explain that such was not the custom in my land. Instead of my
laughing at the Resident’s expense, the whole party laughed at mine;
but my confusion was dispelled by the assurance of all that even the
governor-general himself had to submit to such treatment when he came
to inspect these islands. Besides, I was made aware that the fault was
largely my own, and that, when I leaned backward to laugh, the fair one
behind me had misinterpreted the movement as a challenge (which she
certainly seemed not loath to accept). At every village we had to run a
similar gantlet, and I must confess that several times it occurred to me
that the youngest member of the party certainly received his share of
such tender attention, and that many of these beauties, _nona itum_, were
determined to improve their present opportunity for fear that they might
never again have the privilege of kissing a gentleman with a white face.
The Resident’s duties, while on a tour of inspection, consist chiefly
in visiting and examining the schools, of which there is one in every
village on this island, except at one place where two kampongs, which are
near each other, have one in common. On Saparua also thirteen out of the
sixteen villages are each provided with a school, and on Haruku eleven
villages are supplied with six schools, so distributed over the island as
to be accessible to all. The facilities, therefore, afforded by the Dutch
Government to these natives to acquire a good common education are far
better than they are in many civilized lands. The teachers are all well
paid. Those on this island are all natives. They are remarkably awkward,
probably because they feel dressed up; for, on such an important occasion
as the present, every one who holds a government office must appear in
a black suit. Again and again I found it required great self-command
to keep from smiling when it was expected I should look very grave and
dignified; for here, on the outskirts of civilization, I beheld all the
fashions of Europe, apparently for the last two hundred years. All the
petty officials wore dress coats, some with tails almost on the ground,
and others with sleeves so long that you could scarcely see the ends
of the fingers, and still others with the waists so small that they
seemed to be in corsets. Some of these coats had narrow collars, and
had evidently been worn by the most dainty exquisites, while others had
lapels broad enough for the outer coat of a coachman. As soon as the
inspection is over these precious articles are carefully rolled up and
thoroughly smoked, to prevent their being destroyed by the ants. They are
then placed away till the next year, when they are again unrolled and at
once put on, entirely filled with wrinkles, and giving out the strongest
odors.
On entering the school-house the Resident is greeted with a welcome that
has been prepared long before by the teacher and committed to memory by
a small boy, who now steps forward, and, stretching out both arms at
full length, repeats the oration at the top of his voice, occasionally
emphasizing certain sentences by making a low bow, but taking care
all the time not to bend his extended arms. This ordeal finished, the
children join in singing a psalm, all keeping time by striking the
forefinger of the right hand with the palm of the left. It was most
amusing to see the little ones perform their part of the ceremony. The
four classes, into which the schools are divided, are now successively
examined. The two younger classes in reading and spelling the Malay
language, written in the Roman alphabet, according to the Dutch rules
of pronunciation. The two older classes are likewise examined in these
branches, in penmanship, and the simple rules of arithmetic.
As I visited school after school I became more and more surprised at the
general proficiency of the children, and I am certainly of the opinion
that they would compare very favorably with the children of the same ages
in our own country districts. This remarkable promise in childhood is
not, however, followed by a corresponding development during youth and
manhood.
The population[31] of these islands is divided into the following kinds:
first, that of Europeans, which also includes the mestizoes, or, as
they are always called here, “half-castes,” who are of all shades of
mixture, from those who are as white as Europeans to those who are as
brown as the natives. Outside of the city of Amboina nine-tenths of the
so-called Europeans are really mestizoes. The second class is composed
of those natives who are not required by the government to work in the
clove-gardens. They are named by the Dutch “burgers.” The third class
includes the _negroijvolken_ or “villagers,” and the fourth comprises
those who were slaves, and are mostly natives of Papua. The “villagers,”
or common people, have paid no direct tax, but have been required instead
to work a certain number of days in the clove-gardens belonging to the
government, and also sell to the government all they raise themselves
at a certain price. Now the Dutch are changing this indirect mode of
taxation into a direct mode, and requiring the able-bodied men to pay one
guilder each this year, but not obliging them to work so many days in the
gardens. Next year they are to pay two guilders and work a less number of
days, and so on till the fifth year, when they will pay five guilders,
and be entirely free from any other tax.
After the examination of the school has been finished, all the
able-bodied men are called together before the rajah’s house, and the
Resident explains to them this change, and what will be expected of them
during the coming year. At present each village is obliged to furnish
men at a certain price to carry the chair of every official and of every
one who, like myself, has an order for such a privilege from the head
government at Batavia. In four years from this time each official will be
obliged to make a separate trade at every village with his chair-bearers,
and these people are so indolent, and so given to demanding the most
extravagant prices, that I fear the chief effect of this change will
be to diminish even the little travel and trade there are now, unless
the present system shall be continued till large numbers of horses are
introduced.
This proposed taxation will certainly be very light, for each man can
earn the five guilders required of him by carrying coal or freight for a
week at the city of Amboina.
The great obstacle to every reform among these natives is, that only a
very few of them, if they have enough for one day, will earn any thing
for the morrow. “_Carpe diem_” is a motto more absolutely observed here
than in luxurious Rome. The desire of all Europeans to have something
reserved for sickness or old age is a feeling which these people appear
to never experience, and such innate improvidence is, unfortunately,
encouraged from their earliest childhood by the unfailing and unsparing
manner in which Nature supplies their limited wants. The possibility of a
famine is something they cannot comprehend.
In 1854, 120,283 Amsterdam pounds of cloves were raised on this island
from 13,042 trees, each tree yielding the great quantity of nine pounds.
In the same year, on Saparua, from 29,732 fruit-trees, 181,137 Amsterdam
pounds were gathered, one-third of the whole crop (510,912 pounds)
obtained that year in Amboina, Haruku, Saparua, and Nusalaut. On Haruku
38,803 pounds were gathered that year. These three islands, Haruku,
Saparua, and Nusalaut, with the neighboring south coast of Ceram, form
one residency, over which an assistant resident or resident of the
second rank is placed.
From Lainitu we passed along the northern shore to Nullahia, where we
remained for the night. Here I purchased many beautiful “harp-shells”
and a few large cones, which were formerly so rare that they have been
sold in Europe for more than two hundred dollars apiece. The next day we
continued on to Amet, the largest _kampong_ on the island. Here a good
missionary was located, who was indeed like Melchisedek, “both priest
and king.” From this place he is accustomed to travel to the various
villages, preaching, teaching, and keeping a general surveillance over
the conduct of his people, and the good results of his labor were well
shown in the general spirit of thrift and order which characterizes these
villages as compared to the Mohammedan kampongs I had previously visited
on the shores of Amboina. Every person in all these villages is nominally
a Christian, and this, I believe, is the only island in the archipelago
of which that can be said. The missionary, however, informs me that a few
of them occasionally steal away to some secret place among the mountains
where they practise their ancient rites by making offerings to spirits,
possibly those of their ancestors, which they were accustomed to worship
before the introduction of Christianity.
The village of Amet is one of the best places in the whole Moluccas to
gather shells. The platform of coral which begirts the island extends out
here nearly two English miles from high-water level to where the heavy
swell breaks along its outer edge; and all this flat area is either
bare at low tide, or only covered to the depth of a few inches by small
pools. Here the beautiful “mitre-shells” abound—the _Mitra episcopalis_,
or “Bishop’s mitre,” and the _Mitra papalis_, or “Pope’s mitre,” and many
beautiful cones and cypræas.
From Amet to Abobo, at the southern end of the island, a distance of
more than a mile, the coral platform narrows until it is quite near
the high-water line. Along the whole length of this reef the heavy
swell from the ocean is seen rising again and again into one grand
wall, which, slowly curling its high white crest, plunges headlong
over the soft polyps, which, despite the utmost efforts of the ocean,
slowly but continually advance their wondrous structure seaward. This
endless lashing and washing of the waves, which would wear away the most
adamantine rocks, only enables those delicate animals to work with a
greater vigor, and this is probably the chief reason that the reef here
is wider than anywhere else along the shores of the neighboring islands.
Between Amet and Abobo there is sometimes found a very beautiful cone,
covered with mottled bands of black and salmon-color, which once
commanded fabulous prices in Europe, and is now generally regarded by
the natives as the most valuable shell obtained in these seas. Although
I travelled along nearly all the shores of the adjacent islands, I was
continually assured that this part of Nusalaut was the only place where
this shell was ever found, an assertion which I regard as true, so
sparing is Nature of her choicest treasures.
Returning from Abobo to Nullahia and Lainitu, I took a small prau for
Saparua. The monsoon was light and the sea smooth at first, but when
again we approached Tanjong O, which these natives always spoke of with
the same respect that our sailors speak of Cape Horn, we found a very
strong current setting in one direction, while the wind had freshened
from the opposite quarter. The meeting of the wind and current made the
waves rise irregularly up in pyramids and tumble over in every direction.
The natives, apparently half terrified, stripped off their clothes, as
if they expected that the boat would certainly be swamped, and that soon
their only chance of escape would be to swim to the shore and attempt
to climb up the ragged rocks through the surf; but I encouraged them to
paddle with all their might, and though several waves broke over us,
we went safely through. As soon as the danger was past, each native
frequently looked back and boastfully shook his head, as if to taunt the
evil spirit that dwells on this dangerous headland.
When we arrived at Saparua, I found the Resident just on the point of
starting for the neighboring coast of Ceram, and only waiting to invite
me to accompany him. So again I was in good fortune, for I had not
anticipated reaching that almost unknown island. From the southern bay
we were taken in chairs across the isthmus, that connects the two main
parts of Saparua, to the north bay. It was now night, but we continued
along the east side of this bay to the kampong Nollot, at the northern
end of the island, the nearest point to the part of Ceram we were to
visit. Scores of natives followed us, some to relieve each other as
chair-bearers, and others to carry immense torches of dry palm-leaves,
which successively blazed brightly for a moment and lighted up the
adjoining forests and our strange party. Several villages lay along our
route, and, as we entered each, huge piles of leaves were set on fire,
and the half-naked natives all whooped and shouted until we really seemed
to be in the midst of the infernal regions.
At daylight the next morning we started in two praus for Ceram. As we
left the rajah’s house the beauties of the villages gathered on the bank,
and, while we were embarking, chanted a song of hope that we should have
“a pleasant voyage over the sea, and soon return in safety.” The tifa and
gongs began the monotonous din, the rowers shouted and tugged at their
oars, and the high peaks of Saparua slowly sank beneath the horizon. For
a time no land was in sight, and I could but note how perfectly we were
repeating the experience of the earliest navigators of the Mediterranean
along the shores of Phœnicia and Greece.
Ceram is the largest island in the Moluccas. Its length is one hundred
and sixty-two geographical miles, but its greatest breadth is only forty.
Its area is computed to be about five thousand geographical square miles,
which makes it rank next to Celebes in the whole archipelago. It is
divided into three peninsulas by two deep bays on its southern coast. The
most eastern of these great inlets of the sea is called Elpaputi Bay,
which separates the western end of the island from the eastward. The
western third is again divided into two unequal peninsulas by the bay of
Tanuno. The westernmost is called Howamowel, or “Little Ceram,” and is
connected with the middle peninsula, Kaibobo, by an isthmus less than a
mile broad. Kaibobo is again connected with the eastern two-thirds of the
island by an isthmus about three miles broad. The whole island is really
but one great mountain-chain, which sends off many transverse ranges and
spurs, and the only low land it contains is east of the bay of Amahai,
along its southern shore. In the western peninsula the mountains do not
have any considerable height, but in the middle one some peaks attain
an elevation of five thousand or six thousand feet, and in the middle
part of the eastern peninsula Mount Nusaheli is supposed to rise more
than three thousand metres (nine thousand eight hundred and forty-two
English feet) above the sea. Over all these elevations stretches one
continuous and unbroken forest. So great a part of the whole island is
unknown that various and widely-different estimates of its population
have been made.[32] Some of its peaks now became visible through the
mist, and soon we were in Elpaputi Bay, and, changing our course toward
the east, entered a small inlet called the bay of Amahai. At the head of
this bay is the small village of the same name, containing a population
of thirteen hundred souls. The _controleur_ stationed here told us of
the “Alfura”[33] who dwelt among the neighboring mountains; and, that I
might have the opportunity of seeing these wild savages, the Resident
kindly sent a number of the coast people to invite them to come down and
perform their war-dance before us. In a few hours a party of about twenty
appeared. Only eight or ten were able-bodied men; the others were women,
children, and old men. In height and general appearance they closely
resemble the Malays, and evidently form merely a subdivision of the Malay
race. Their peculiar characteristics are the darker color of their skins
and of their hair, which, instead of being lank like that of the Malays,
is crisp, but not woolly like that of the Papuans. They wear it so very
long, that they may properly be said to have large and bushy heads.
When in full dress, however, this abundance of hair is confined by a red
handkerchief, obtained from the natives on the coast, and ornamented with
parts of a small shell, the _Nassa_, in place of beads. Their clothing is
a strip of the inner bark of a tree beaten with stones until it becomes
white and opaque, and appears much like white, rough paper. This garment
is three or four inches wide and about three feet long. It passes round
the waist and covers the loins in such a way that one end hangs down in
front as far as the knee. On the arm, above the elbow, some wore a large
ring, apparently made from the stalk of a sea-fan, _Gorgonia_. To this
were fastened bunches of long, narrow green leaves, striped with yellow.
Similar ornaments were fastened to the elbows and to the strip of bark
at the waist. Each of the warriors was armed with a _parang_ or cleaver,
which he raised high in the right hand, while on his left arm was a
shield three or four feet long but only four or five inches wide, which
he held before him as if to ward off an imaginary blow. Their dance was
merely a series of short leaps forward and backward, and occasionally
whirling quickly round as if to defend themselves from a sudden attack
in the rear. Their only musical instrument was a rude tifa, which was
accompanied by a monotonous song from the women, children, and old men.
At first the time of the music was slow, but by degrees it grew quicker
and louder, until all sang as fast and loud as they could. The dancing
warriors became more excited, and flourished their cleavers and leaped
to and fro with all their might, until, as one of our company remarked,
their eyes were like fire. It was easy to understand that in such a
state of temporary madness they would no more hesitate to cleave off a
head than to cut down a bamboo. They are far-famed “head-hunters.” It is
a custom that has become a law among them that every young man must at
least cut off _one human head before he can marry_. Heads, therefore,
are in great demand, and perhaps our realization of this fact made these
frenzied savages appear the more shocking specimens of humanity. The
head of a child will meet the inexorable demands of this bloody law, but
the head of a woman is preferred, because it is supposed she can more
easily defend herself or escape; for the same reason the head of a man is
held in higher estimation, and the head of a white man is a proof of the
greatest bravery, and therefore the most glorious trophy.
On the north coast, near Sawai Bay, the Dutch, a few years ago, had a war
with these natives, and when they had driven them to the mountains, they
found in their huts between two and three times as many human skulls as
it is probable there were people in the whole village, men, women, and
children taken together. When a man is afraid to go out on such a hunt
alone, he invites or hires two or three others to assist him, and all
lie in wait near a neighboring village until some one chances to pass
by, when they spring out and dispatch their victim, and escape. This,
of course, creates a deadly enmity between each tribe and every other
near it; and the whole interior of the eastern half of the island, where
this head-hunting prevails, is one unchanging scene of endless, bloody
strife. The same custom prevails over the greater part of the interior
of Borneo among many tribes known as Dyaks, the Malay word for “savage.”
There only the heads of men are valued, and new ones must be obtained to
celebrate every birth and funeral, as well as marriage. I have seen a
necklace of human teeth made in that island by those people. Small holes
had been drilled in several scores of them, which were then strung on a
wire long enough to pass two or three times round the neck of the hero
who wore it. When a head is secured, the brains are taken out, and it
is placed over a fire to be smoked and dried. During this process, the
muscles of the face contract and change the features until they assume a
most ghastly grimace.
The dance being finished, we conversed with them as well as we could
about their customs, for none of them could speak but a few words in
Malay. On the piece of paper-like bark which hangs down in front, each
warrior makes a circle when he cuts off a head. Some had one or two of
these circles; but one man had four, and I gave him to understand that I
knew what they meant by drawing my hand four times across my throat, and
then holding up the fingers of one hand, and instantly he hopped about
as delighted as a child, thinking that of course I was regarding him as
the bravest of the brave, while I looked at him in mute astonishment,
and tried to realize what a hardened villain he was. Our North American
savages are civilized men compared to these fiends in human form.
[Illustration: A DYAK OR HEAD-HUNTER OF BORNEO.]
From Amahai we sailed westward across Elpaputi Bay to the peninsula
already described as rejoicing in the melodious name of Kaibobo. Here,
at a small village, a native of Amboina had established himself,
and commenced planting cocoa-trees, which we found thriving most
satisfactorily, even better than in the gardens I had previously visited
on Amboina. At the present prices this is the most profitable product
that can be raised in the Moluccas, and the good result of this trial
shows what enormous quantities might be shipped yearly from this single
great island of Ceram, if foreigners or natives would devote themselves
to its culture.
Near by were two villagers of Alfura, who had been induced to abandon
their old habits of roaming among the mountains and make for themselves
a fixed dwelling-place. The rajah of each place came to the village
where we landed, to acknowledge his allegiance to the Dutch Government.
From that place we proceeded southward along the eastern shore of the
peninsula. While we were in the bay, the opposite shore sheltered us
from the heavy southeasterly swell that now rolled in before a driving
rain-storm, and made our round-bottomed _praus_ roll and pitch so that
the rowers could scarcely use their oars. At length, near night, we
came to anchor off a village that the Resident was obliged to visit.
It was situated on a straight, open beach, which descended so abruptly
beneath the sea, that the high swell never once broke before finding
itself suddenly stopped in its rapid course; it rose up in one huge wall
that reeled forward and fell on the steep shore with a roar like heavy
thunder. Although I was born by the shore of the open sea, and had seen
boats land in all kinds of weather, I never saw the most daring sailors
attempt it through such a surf as was breaking before us. Every few
moments the water would rebound from the sand until it rose twice and
a half as high as the natives standing near it, at least fifteen feet.
One of our number could not conceal his timidity, and declared that
every one of us would be drowned if we should attempt to land at that
time. The Resident, however, said he should try it, and I assured him he
should not go alone; and the others concluded not to allow themselves to
be left behind. More than two hundred natives had now gathered on the
beach. They soon made a rude skid or wide ladder, with large poles on the
sides, and small green ones with the bark torn off for the rounds. This
was laid down when the wave was forming, and a heavy prau pushed on to
it as the wave broke, and a broad sheet of surf partially buoyed her up.
As this wave receded, she was successfully launched. We were now ordered
to change from our boat into that one, and at once we ran in toward the
shore over the heavy rollers. Other natives now appeared on the beach
with a huge coil of rattan an inch or more in diameter, and, two or three
of them seizing one end, ran down and plunged headlong into a high wave
as coolly and as unhesitatingly as a diver would leap from the side of
a boat in a quiet bay. The end of the rattan was fastened firmly to the
front part of our boat; the other was carried up a long way on the beach,
and the natives ranged themselves in two rows, each grasping it with
one hand as if ready to haul in the leviathan himself, when the warning
should be given. A number of heavy seas now rolled in and broke, but the
natives, by means of their paddles, kept us from being swept forward or
backward. A smaller swell is coming in now. Every native gives a wild
yell, and those on the shore haul in the rattan with all their might, and
away we dart on the crest of a wave with the swiftness of an arrow. We
are now in the midst of the surf, and our boat is on the skid, but away
we glide at the speed of a locomotive, and already we are high upon the
bank before the next wave can come in.
[Illustration: LANDING THROUGH THE SURF ON THE SOUTH COAST OF CERAM.]
The Resident, who enjoyed surprising me as much as possible, had
carefully concealed the urgent business that had compelled him to land
in such a difficult place, and my curiosity was not diminished when
I noticed his imperative orders for the militia, who accompanied us
as a guard, to come on shore immediately. We were evidently near, or
already in, an enemy’s country. A large gathering of the natives was now
ordered at the rajah’s house, an examination began, and several men were
sentenced to be seized by the guard and brought to Amboina for trial.
They had been guilty of participating in a _feest kakian_, or meeting
of a secret organization, that was formed as early at least as a few
years after the arrival of the Dutch. There are various opinions as to
its object, some asserting that it originated as a confederation of many
tribes against other tribes, and others supposing its design to be to
resist the authority of the Dutch, the view apparently entertained by
that government.
But a short time before we arrived they had held one of their drunken
revels at a place only half an hour’s walk among the neighboring
mountains. In these convivials at first each indulges as freely as he
chooses in an intoxicating liquor made from the juice of the flowering
part of a palm; then all join in a dance, and kick about a human head
which has been obtained for this especial occasion, and is tossed into
the midst of these human fiends all besmeared with its own clotted blood.
The natives whom our soldiers were seizing were present and took part in
one of these bloody carousals, as they themselves acknowledged. I must
confess that a sickening sensation, akin to fear, crept over me that
night before I fell asleep, as I realized the probability that, if it
were not for our guard, instead of our taking away those culprits to be
punished as they richly deserved, they would sever every one of our heads
and have another diabolical revel over their bloody trophies.
All night the wind piped loudly in strong gusts, and the heavy pulsating
of the surf came up from the beach beneath us. In the morning the storm
had not abated, but I was anxious to go back to Amboina, and no one of
the party desired to remain long in that savage place. To embark was more
difficult than to land. Again the skid was put down on the sand, the prau
placed on it, and as the water receded the natives pushed us off, several
waves sweeping over their heads; but they were so completely amphibious,
that it did not appear to trouble them in the least. Unfortunately,
a strong gust struck us just as we floated, and for some minutes we
remained motionless in one spot, the sea rolling up until what Virgil
says, with a poet’s license, was literally true of us, the naked earth
could be seen beneath our keel.
Again all that day we pitched and tossed, and the distance we had to go
seemed endless, until, as the sun sank, the high land of Saparua rose
before us and we entered a broad bay. The natives saw us coming, and
quickly kindled on the shore huge blazing fires, which were repeated in
the form of long bands of bright light on the mirror-like surface of the
quiet sea, and now we were welcomed with shouts to the same place where
the native belles had sung such a plaintive song at our departure.
From Saparua I returned directly to Amboina, for one who has been
accustomed to the mail facilities of our land will subject himself to
almost any inconvenience in order to reach the place where the mail-boat
touches.
Life at Amboina, and at almost every other place in the Dutch
possessions, at the best is dull. Once or twice a month, in accordance
with an established custom, the governor gives a reception on Sunday
evenings, when all the Europeans and most of the mestizoes come and dance
till late; and as there are some seven hundred of these people in the
city, and the larger portion attend, such parties are quite brilliant
affairs. The music is furnished by a small band connected with the
detachment of soldiers stationed here.
An occasional wedding also helps to break up the unvarying monotony,
and kindly furnishes a topic for general conversation, so that for a
time every one does not feel obliged to complain of the abundance of
rain, if it is the rainy season, or of the lack of rain if it is the dry
monsoon. Whenever an official goes back to Holland, or is transferred
from one place to another, which usually occurs once in three years, even
when he is not promoted, he sells most of his furniture at auction. His
friends always muster in full force, and each one is expected to show his
attachment to his departing friend by purchasing a number of articles, or
something of little value, at ten or a hundred times its price. Such an
occasion also gives a change to the talk among merchants.
An auction here, instead of being a kind of private trade, as with us, is
directly under the management of the government. An authorized auctioneer
is regularly appointed at each place, and a scribe carefully enters the
name of the successful bidder, the article he has purchased, and the
price. Three months of grace are allowed before such a bill becomes due,
but then the buyer must at once pay the sum due or make some arrangement
satisfactory to the seller. When natives, whose assets are always
limited, have purchased a number of articles, the scribe frequently takes
upon himself the responsibility of ordering them not to bid again.
CHAPTER VII.
BANDA.
Two months had now passed since I arrived at Amboina, and I had not only
collected all the shells figured in Rumphius’s “Rariteit Kamer,” which
I had come to seek, but more than twice as many species besides. I was
therefore ready to visit some other locality, and turn my attention
to a different branch of natural history. During all the time I had
been gathering and arranging my collection, Governor Arriens had
frequently honored me with a visit, and, as I was finishing my work, he
called again, this time to give me a pleasant surprise. He had a fine
steam-yacht, of three or four hundred tons. It was necessary that he
should go to Banda, and he took it for granted that I would accompany
him. If I had planned for myself, what could I have desired more; but
he added that, when his yacht, the Telegraph, returned, there would be
an item of business for her to do on the north coast of Ceram, which I
should also visit, though alone, and that, when she returned to Amboina
a second time, we would go together to Ternate, and, taking the Resident
stationed there, proceed to the north coast of Papua—a royal programme.
_Sept. 7th._—At 5 P. M. steamed down the beautiful bay of Amboina for
Banda. Our company is composed of the governor, who is going on a tour
of inspection, our captain, myself, an “officer of justice,” and a
lieutenant with a detachment of soldiers in charge of a native of Java,
who is sentenced to be hanged as soon as we reach our port. The worst
of the rainy season is now over, and this evening is cool, clear, and
delightful.
Early the next morning Banda appeared on the horizon, or more correctly
the Bandas—for they are ten in number. The largest, Lontar, or Great
Banda, is a crescent-shaped island, about six miles long and a mile and a
half wide in the broadest parts. The eastern horn of its crescent turns
toward the north and the other points toward the west. In a prolongation
of the former lie Pulo Pisang, “Banana Island,” and Pulo Kapal, “Ship
Island.” The first is about two-thirds of a mile long, and half as wide;
the last is merely a rock about three hundred feet high, and somewhat
resembling the poop of a ship, hence its name. Within the circle of which
these islands form an arc, lie three other islands. The highest and most
remarkable is the Gunong Api,[34] or “Burning Mountain,” a conical,
active volcano, about two thousand three hundred feet high. Between
Gunong Api and the northern end of Lontar lies Banda Neira, about two
miles long and less than a mile broad. Northeast of the latter is a
small rock called Pulo Krakka, or “Women’s Island.”
The centre of the circle of which Lontar is an arc falls in a narrow
passage called Sun Strait, which separates Gunong Api from Banda Neira.
The diameter of this circle is about six miles. Without it, another
concentric circle may be drawn, which will pass through Pulo Ai, “Water
Island,” on the west, and Rosengain in the southwest; and outside of this
a third concentric circle, which will pass through Swangi, “Sorcery or
Spirit Island,” on the northwest, Pulo Run (Rung), “Chamber Island,” on
the west, and the reef of Rosengain on the southwest. The total area of
the whole group is seventeen and six-tenths geographical square miles.
The first European who reached these beautiful and long-sought islands
was D’Abreu, a Portuguese, but he cannot correctly be styled their
discoverer, for the Arabs and Chinese, and probably the Hindus, had
been trading here for years before his arrival, as De Barros informs
us D’Abreu, while on his way, touched at Gresik, in Java, to procure
“Javanese and Malay pilots who had made this voyage,” and he farther
adds: “Every year there repair to Lutatam” (Lontar) “Javanese and Malays
to load cloves, nutmegs, and mace; for this place is in the latitudes
most easily navigated, and where ships are most safe, and as the cloves
of the Moluccas are brought to it by vessels of the country, it is not
necessary to go to the latter in search of them. In the _five_ islands
now named” (Lontar, Rosengain, Ai, Run, and Neira), “grow all the nutmegs
consumed in every part of the world.” A proof of the correctness of a
part of De Barros’s statements is seen in the names of the different
islands, which are all of Malay or Javanese origin. The population at
that time was given at fifteen thousand, which, if correct, would have
made this group far more densely peopled than any island or number of
islands in the whole archipelago is at the present day. Their personal
appearance and form of government are thus minutely described by De
Barros: “The people of these islands are robust, with a tawny complexion
and lank hair, and are of the worst repute in these parts. They follow
the sect of Mohammed, and are much addicted to trade, their women
performing the labors of the field. They have neither king nor lord, and
all their government depends on the advice of their elders; and as these
are often at variance, they quarrel among themselves. The land has no
other export than the nutmeg. This tree is in such abundance that the
land is full of it, without its being planted by any one, for the earth
yields without culture. The forests which produce it belong to no one by
inheritance, but to the people in common. When June and September come,
which are the months for gathering the crop, the nutmegs are allotted,
and he who gathers most has most profit.”[35] The fact that the natives
were Mohammedans may be regarded as a proof that they were in advance
of the other nations, who continued in heathenism, and their daring and
determination are well shown in their long contest with the Dutch.
For nearly a hundred years the Portuguese monopolized the trade of
these islands, and appear to have generally kept on good terms with the
natives, but in 1609 the Dutch appeared with seven hundred troops, as
large a force—Mr. Crawfurd pointedly remarks—as Cortez had with which
to subjugate all Mexico. The admiral commanding this expedition, and
forty-five of his companions, were taken by an ambuscade, and all slain.
The Dutch then began a war of extermination, which lasted eighteen years,
and was only brought to an end by a large expedition from Java, conducted
by the governor-general in person. During this long contest the natives
are said to have lost three thousand killed and a thousand prisoners, or
more than a fourth part of what has been stated as their whole number
when the Dutch arrived. All who were left alive fled to the neighboring
islands, and not a vestige of their language or peculiar customs is known
to exist at the present time.
The Dutch were thus left sole possessors of the coveted prize, but there
were no natives to cultivate the nutmeg-trees, and they were therefore
obliged to import slaves to do their labor. When slavery was abolished
in the Dutch possessions, convicts were sent from Java to make up the
deficiency, and at this time there are about three thousand of them
in all these islands. Most of them are in Lontar and Neira. They are
a most villanous-looking set, and have nearly all been guilty of the
bloodiest crimes. They are obliged to wear around the neck a large iron
ring, weighing a pound or a pound and a half. It is bent round, and then
welded, so that it can only be taken off by means of a file. It is not so
heavy that it is difficult for them to carry, but is designed, like the
State-prison dress in our country, to show that they are common felons.
The one on board our ship, who will be executed on our arrival, killed
a secretary of the government—a European—in cold blood, at Banda, where
he had already been banished for murder, like most of his fellows. The
secretary, having occasion to arrange some papers in a box at the farther
end of his room, noticed this common coolie disturbing some letters on
his desk, and naturally ordered him to let them alone, and then leaned
forward to continue his work. Instantly the Javanese, without further
provocation, sprang forward, and, striking him on the back of the head
with a heavy cleaver, killed him on the spot. Afterward, when this
villain was seized and tried, he could assign no other reason for his
committing the murder than the order from his superior to attend to his
own business. When he heard that he was sentenced to death, he coolly
remarked that he cared very little, as they would hang him, and not
take off his head, so that what he had done would in no way affect his
entering Paradise!
In 1852 some natives came from Timur, Timur-laut, and the neighboring
islands, to work on the nutmeg-plantations, or, as the Dutch prefer to
call them, “parks.” In two years these people numbered two hundred and
thirteen, but they have not increased since to such a degree as to form a
large fraction of the whole population.
But while we have been glancing back over the eventful history of the
Bandas, our fast yacht has rapidly brought us nearer to them over the
quiet, glassy sea. This is Pulo Ai on our right. It is only from three
hundred to five hundred feet high, and, as we see from the low cliffs on
its shores, is mostly composed of coral rock. This is also said to be the
case with the other islands outside of the first circle we have already
described, and we notice that, like it, they are all comparatively low.
Now changing our course to the east, we steam up under the high, steep
Gunong Api. On its north-northwest side, about one-fourth of the distance
from its summit down to the sea, is a deep, wide gulf, out of which rise
thick, opaque clouds of white gas, that now, in the still, clear air,
are seen rolling grandly upward in one gigantic, expanding column to the
sky. On its top also thin, veil-like clouds occasionally gather, and
then slowly float away like cumuli dissolving in the pure ether. These
cloud-masses are chiefly composed of steam and sulphurous acid gas,
and, as they pour out, indicate what an active laboratory Nature has
established deep within the bowels of this old volcano.
The western horn of crescent-shaped Lontar is before us. Its shore is
composed of a series of nearly perpendicular crags from two to three
hundred feet high, but particularly on the northern or inner side the
luxuriant vegetation of these tropical islands does not allow the rocks
to remain naked, and from their crevices and upper edges hang down broad
sheets of a bright-green, unfading verdure. The western entrance to the
road, the one through which we are now passing, is between the abrupt,
magnificent coast of Lontar on the right, and the high, overhanging
peak of Gunong Api on the left; and, as we advance, they separate,
and disclose to our view the steep and lofty wall that forms Lontar’s
northern shore. This is covered with a dense, matted mass of vegetation,
out of which rise the erect, columnar trunks of palms, from the crests
of which, as from sheaves, long, feathery leaves hang over, slowly and
gracefully oscillating in the light air, which we can just perceive
fanning our faces. Now Banda Neira is in full view. It is composed of
hills which gradually descend to the shore of this little bay. On the
top of one near us is Fort Belgica, in form a regular pentagon. At the
corners are bastions surmounted by small circular towers, so that the
whole exactly resembles an old feudal castle. Its walls are white,
and almost dazzling in the bright sunlight; and beneath is a broad,
neatly-clipped glacis, forming a beautiful, green, descending lawn. Below
this defence is Fort Nassau, which was built by the Dutch when they
first arrived in 1609, only two years before the foundations of Belgica
were laid, and both fortifications have existed nearly as they are now
for more than two and a half centuries. On either hand along the shore
extends the chief village, Neira, with rows of pretty shade-trees on the
bund, or front street, bordering the bay. Its population is about two
thousand. In the road are a number of praus from Ceram, strange-looking
vessels, high at stern, and low at the bow, and having, instead of a
single mast, a tall tripod, which can be raised and lowered at pleasure.
They are all poorly built, and it seems a wonder that such awkward boats
can live any time in a rough sea. A number of Bugis traders are also
at anchor near by. They are mostly hermaphrodite schooners, carrying a
square-sail or foresail, a fore-topsail, and fore-royal, and evidently
designed, like the praus, to sail only before the wind. They visit the
eastern end of Ceram, the southwestern and western parts of Papua or
New Guinea, the Arus, and most of the thousand islands between Banda,
Timur, and Australia. When the mail-steamer that took me to Amboina
touched here, a merchant of this place, who joined us, brought on board
four large living specimens of the _Paradisea apoda_ or “Great Bird of
Paradise,” which he had purchased a short time before from one of these
traders, and was taking with him to Europe.[36] They were all sprightly,
and their colors had a bright, lively hue, incomparably richer than the
most magnificent specimens I have ever seen in any museum.
[Illustration: THE LONTAR PALM.]
At our main truck a small flag slowly unfolds and displays a red ball.
This indicates that the governor is on board, and immediately a boat
comes to take us to the village; but as business is not pressing—as is
usually the case in the East—we prefer to conform to the established
custom in these hot lands, and enjoy a _siesta_, instead of obliging
our good friends on shore to come out in full dress and parade in the
scorching sunshine.
At 5 P. M. we landed, and the Resident politely conducted us to
his residence. Our first excursion was to the western end of the
opposite island, Lontar, the Malay name of the Palmyra palm, _Borassus
flabelliformis_. Its leaves were used as parchment over all the
archipelago before the introduction of paper by the Arabs or Chinese,
and in some places even at the present time. Lontar, as already noticed,
has the form of a crescent. Its inner side is a steep wall, bordered
at the base with a narrow band of low land. On the outer side from the
crest of the wall many radiating ridges descend to the sea, so that its
southwestern shore is a continued series of little points separated
by small bays. The whole island is covered with one continuous forest
of nutmeg and _canari_ trees. The nutmeg-tree, _Myristica moschata_,
belongs to the order _Myristicaceæ_. A foot above the ground the trunk
is from six to ten inches in diameter. It branches like the laurel, and
its loftiest sprays are frequently fifty feet high. It is diœcious,
that is, the pistils and the stamens are borne on different trees, and
of course some of them are unproductive. The fruit, before it is folly
ripe, closely resembles a peach that has not yet been tinged with red;
but this is only a fleshy outer rind, _epicarp_, which soon opens into
two equal parts, and within is seen a spherical, black, polished nut,
surrounded by a fine branching _aril_—the “mace”—of a bright vermilion.
In this condition it is probably by far the most beautiful fruit in the
whole vegetable kingdom. It is now picked by means of a small basket
fastened to the end of a long bamboo. The outer part being removed, the
mace is carefully taken off and dried on large, shallow bamboo baskets in
the sun. During this process its bright color changes to a dull yellow.
It is now ready to be packed in nice casks and shipped to market. The
black, shining part, seen between the ramifications of the vermilion
mace, is really a shell, and the nutmeg is within. As soon as the mace is
removed, the nuts are taken to a room and spread on shallow trays of open
basket-work. A slow fire is then made beneath, and here they remain for
three months. By the end of that time the nutmeg has shrunk so much that
it rattles in its black shell. The shell is then broken, and the nutmegs
are sorted and packed in large casks of teak-wood, and a brand is placed
on the head of the cask, giving the year the fruit was gathered and the
name of the plantation or “park” where it grew.
From Neira a large cutter took us swiftly over the bay to Selam, a small
village containing the ruins of the old capital of the Portuguese during
the sixteenth and early part of the seventeenth centuries, while their
rights remained undisputed by the Dutch. This western end of Lontar is
about four hundred feet high, and is composed of coral rock of a very
recent date. Walking eastward, we next came to a conglomerate containing
angular fragments of lava. This rock was succeeded on the shore of the
bay by a fine-grained, compact lava, somewhat stratified, and this again
by trachytic and basaltic lavas. Indeed, the whole island, except the
parts described above, consists of these eruptive rocks, and Lontar may
be regarded as merely a part of the walls of an immense crater about _six
miles_ in diameter, if it were circular, though its form may have been
more nearly elliptical. Pulo Pisang and Pulo Kapal, already noticed as
falling in the first circle, are two other fragments of the old crater
wall. All the remaining parts have disappeared beneath the sea. Here,
then, is another immense crater, greater even than the famous one in the
Tenger Mountains in the eastern part of Java, the bottom of which is
covered with shifting, naked sand, and has been appropriately named by
the Malays the Laut Pasar or “Sandy Sea.” That crater is elliptical in
outline, its major axis measuring _four and a half miles_, and its minor
axis _three and a half miles_, and, though of such dimensions, its bottom
is nearly a level floor of sand. Out of this rise four truncated cones,
each containing a small crater. One of these, the “Bromo” (so named from
Brama, the Hindu god, whose emblem is fire), is still active. In this
old crater the island Banda Neira represents the extinct cones rising
in the “Sandy Sea,” and Gunong Api has a perfect analogue in the active
Bromo. The enclosed bay or road, where vessels now anchor in eight or
nine fathoms, is the bottom of this old crater, and, like that in the
Tenger Mountains, is composed of volcanic sand. The radiating ridges on
the outer side of Lontar represent the similar ridges on the sides of
every volcano that is not building up its cone by frequent eruptions at
its summit. Again, the islands crossed by the second and third circles
are only so many cones on the flanks of this great volcano. True, those
parts of them now above the sea are largely composed of coral rock like
the west end of Lontar, but undoubtedly the polyps began to build their
high walls on the stores of islands of lava. They are doing this at the
present moment. Every island in the group is now belted with a fringing
reef, except at a few places where the shore is a perpendicular precipice
and the water of great depth. The western entrance, through which we came
to the road, is already quite closed up by a broad reef of living coral.
A stroll through these beautiful groves would be one of the richest
treats a traveller could enjoy, even if he took no interest in the rocks
beneath his feet. All the nutmeg-trees were loaded down with fruit, which
is chiefly gathered during this month (September), and again in June,
though some is obtained from time to time throughout the year. It seemed
surprising that the trees could bear so abundantly season after season,
but the official reports show that there has been little variation in
the annual yield for the last thirty years. An average crop for the last
twenty years has been about 580,000 Amsterdam pounds of nuts and 137,000
pounds of mace. The trees may be estimated, in round numbers, at 450,000,
of which only two-thirds bear. As the governor remarked to me, while I
was expressing my wonder at the abundance of fruit on every side, it is,
indeed, strange that the income of the government does not equal its
expense. For this cause it now, for the first time, proposes to give up
its long-continued monopoly. Beneath the trees is spread a carpet of
green grass, while high above them the gigantic _canari_ trees stretch
out their gnarled arms and shield the valuable trees intrusted to their
care from the strong winds which strive in vain to make them cast off
their fruit before it is ripe. Such good service do the tall _canaris_
render in this way, that they are planted everywhere, and when the
island is seen from a distance, their tops quite hide the nutmeg-trees
from view. The roots of this _canari_ are most remarkable. They spring
off from the trunk above the ground in great vertical sheets, which are
frequently four feet broad where they leave the tree, and wind back and
forth for some distance before they disappear beneath the soil, so that
the lower part of one of these old trees might well be fancied to be
a huge bundle of enormous snakes struggling to free themselves from a
Titanic hand that held them firmly forever.
As we leisurely strolled along the crest of Lontar, with a thick foliage
over our heads that effectually shut out the direct rays of the sun,
we occasionally caught distant views under the trees of the blue sea
breaking into white, sparkling surf on the black rocks far, far beneath
us.
Soon we came to the “Lookout,” known here, however, by the Malay name
_Orang Datang_, “The people come,” for it is a peculiarity of that
language, instead of naming a place like this _subjectively_, as we do,
that is from one’s own action, to name it _objectively_, that is, from
the result of that action. The lookout is placed on the edge of the
interior wall, and is about six hundred feet above the sea. From this
point most of the Bandas are distinctly seen in a single glance, and the
view is undoubtedly one of the most charming to be enjoyed among all
the isles of the sea. Before us was Banda Neira, with Neira its pretty
village, and to the left of this the dark, smoking volcano; and beyond
both, on the right, Banana Island, where the lepers live in solitary
banishment; and still farther seaward, Ship Rock, with the swell chafing
its abrupt sides, while, on our left, in the distance, were Pulo Ai and
Pulo Run, all rising out of the blue sea, which was only ruffled here and
there by light breezes or flecked by shadows of the fleecy clouds that
slowly crossed the sky.
The next day we again went over to Lontar, and followed along the
narrow band of low land between the base of the old crater-wall and
the bay, visiting a number of the residences of the “Perkenniers,” as
the proprietors of the parks are styled. Each of these consisted of a
rectangular area of a eighth or a quarter of an acre, enclosed by a high
wall. The side next the sea is formed by the park-keeper’s house, and on
the other three sides of the great open yard are rows of store-houses,
and the houses of the natives who work on that plantation. Near the place
where we landed was a small area where all the mace is _white_ when the
fruit is ripe and not _red_. From the west end of the island we followed
most of the distance round its outer shore, and then crossed to our
landing. In the early morning, while we were leaving on our excursion,
preparations were made in Fort Nassau for the execution of the Javanese
we had brought the day before from Amboina, whither he had been taken
to be tried for his capital crime. Long lines of natives, most of them
women, were seen hurrying along to witness the shocking sight, apparently
with exactly the same feelings they would have if they were on their way
to some theatrical show.
As the governor had now finished his duties as inspector, he proposed
that we try to reach the top of the volcano! As we looked up toward its
high, dark summit, then but partially lighted by the fading sunset, the
thought of such a dangerous undertaking was enough to make one shudder,
and, indeed, even while we were sitting on the broad veranda, and
discussing the dangers we must incur on the morrow, there was a sudden
jar—everybody darted instantly down the steps—it was an _earthquake_, and
no one knew that a shock might not come the next instant so severe as to
lay the whole house in ruins. These frightful phenomena occur here, on
an average, once a month, but, of course, no one can tell what moment
they may occur or what destruction they may cause. Such is the unceasing
solicitude that all the inhabitants of these beautiful islands have to
suffer. The governor had ascended fifteen volcanoes on Java, some of them
with the famous Dr. Junghuhn, and such a slight earthquake could not
shake his decision. But our party had to be made up anew. I promised the
governor he should not go alone, though I could not anticipate the ascent
without some solicitude. The captain of our yacht then volunteered, also
a lieutenant, and finally, as no other shock disturbed us, the excursion
became as popular as before, and a number asked permission “to go with
His Excellency,” a favor the governor was quite ready to grant, though I
noticed a good-natured smile on his countenance to see such devotion and
such bravery.
There was only one man, a native, who had ever been to the top and
“knew the way,” though from a distance one part of the mountain seemed
as dangerous as another. That man was engaged as our “guide,” and also
some ten others whose duty it was to carry a good supply of water in
long bamboos. Early next morning the coolies were ready, but only the
four of us before mentioned appeared at the appointed hour; the daring
of the others had evidently been dispelled by portentous dreams. From
the western end of the village we crossed “the Strait of the Sun” to the
foot of the mountain. Some coolies had preceded us, and cleared away
a path up the steep acclivity; but soon our only road was the narrow
bands where large masses of rocks and sand, which had been loosened
from some place high up the mountain, and shot down in a series of
small land-slides, ploughing up the low shrubbery in their thundering
descent. As long as we climbed up among the small trees, although it was
difficult and tiring, it was not particularly dangerous until we came
out on the naked sides of the mountain, for this great elevation is not
covered with vegetation more than two-thirds of the distance from its
base to its summit. This lack of vegetation is caused by the frequent
and wide land-slides and by the great quantity of sulphur brought up to
its top by sublimation and washed down its sides by the heavy rains.
Here we were obliged to crawl up on all fours among small, rough blocks
of porous lava, and all spread out until our party formed a horizontal
line on the mountain-side, so that when one loosened several rocks, as
constantly happened, they might not come down upon some one beneath him.
Our ascent now was extremely slow and difficult, but we kept on, though
sometimes the top of the mountain seemed as far off as the stars, until
we were within about five hundred feet of the summit, when we came to
a horizontal band of loose, angular fragments of lava from two to six
inches in diameter. The mountain-side in that place rose at least at an
angle of thirty-five degrees, but to us, in either looking up or down,
it seemed almost perpendicular. The band of stones was about two hundred
feet wide, and so loose that, when one was touched, frequently half a
dozen would go rattling down the mountain. I had got about half-way
across this dangerous place, when the stones on which my feet were placed
gave way. This, of course, threw my whole weight on my hands, and at once
the rocks, which I was holding with the clinched grasp of death, also
gave way, and I began to slide downward. The natives on either side of
me cried out, but no one dared to catch me for fear that I should carry
him down also. Among the loose rocks, a few ferns grew up and spread out
their leaves to the sunlight. As I felt myself going down, I chanced to
roll to my right side and notice one of them, and, quick as a flash of
light, the thought crossed my mind that my only hope was to seize _that
fern_. This I did with my right hand, burying my elbow among the loose
stones with the same motion, and that, thanks to a kind Providence, was
sufficient to stop me; if it had broken, in less than a minute—probably
in thirty or forty seconds—I should have been dashed to pieces on the
rough rocks beneath. The whole certainly occurred in a less space
of time than it takes to read two lines on this page. I found myself
safe—drew a long breath of relief—thanked God it was well with me—and,
kicking away the loose stones with my heels, turned round and kept on
climbing. Above this band of loose stones the surface of the mountain was
covered with a crust formed chiefly of the sulphur washed down by the
rains, which have also formed many small grooves. Here we made better
progress, though it seemed the next thing to climbing the side of a
brick house; and I thought I should certainly be eligible to the “Alpine
Club”—if I ever got down alive. At this moment the natives above us gave
a loud shout, and I supposed of course that some one had lost his footing
and was going down to certain death. “_Look out! Look out!—Great rocks
are coming!_” was the order they gave us; and the next instant several
small blocks, and one great flake of lava two feet in diameter, bounded
by us with the speed of lightning. “_Here is another!_” It is coming
straight for us, and it will take out one of our number to a certainty, I
thought. I had stood up in the front of battle when shot and shell were
flying, and men were falling; but now to see the danger coming, and to
feel that I was perfectly helpless, I must confess, made me shudder, and
I crouched down in the groove where I was, hoping it might bound over me:
and at that instant, a fragment of lava, a foot square, leaped up from
the mountain and passed directly over the head of a coolie a few feet to
my right, clearing him by not more than five or six inches. I took it
for granted that the mountain was undergoing another eruption, and that
in a moment we should all be shaken down its almost vertical sides; but
as the rocks ceased coming down we continued our ascent, and soon stood
on the rim of the crater. The mystery concerning the falling rocks was
now solved. One of our number had reached the summit before the rest of
us, and, with the aid of a native, had been tumbling off rocks for the
sport of seeing them bound down the mountain, having stupidly forgotten
that we all had to wind part way round the peak before we could get up on
the edge of the summit, and that those of the party who were not on the
top must be directly beneath him.
The whole mountain is a great cone of small angular blocks of trachytic
lava and volcanic sand, and the crater at its summit is only a conical
cavity in the mass. It is about eighty feet deep and one hundred or one
hundred and fifty yards in diameter. The area on the top is elliptical
in form, about three hundred yards long and two hundred wide. This, on
the eastern side, is composed of heaps of small lava-blocks, which are
whitened on the exterior, and, in many places, quite incrusted with
sulphur. Through the heaps of stones steam and sulphurous acid gas are
continually rising, and we soon hurried around to the windward side to
escape their suffocating fumes, and in a number of places we were glad to
run, to prevent our shoes from being scorched by the hot rocks. On the
western side of the crater the rim is largely composed of sand, and in
one place rises one hundred and twenty feet higher than on the eastern
side. The top, therefore, partly opens toward the east, and from some
of the higher parts of Lontar most of the area on the summit of this
truncated cone can be seen. In the western part were many fissures, out
of which rose sheets and jets of gas. When we had reached the highest
point on the northwest side, we leaned over and looked directly down
into the great active crater, a quarter of the distance from the summit
to the sea. Dense volumes of steam and other gases were rolling up, and
only now and then could we distinguish the edges of the deep, yawning
abyss. Here we rested and lunched, enjoying meanwhile a magnificent view
over the whole of the Banda group when the strangling gas was not blown
into our faces. Again we continued around the northern side, and came
down into an old crater, where was a large rock with “Ætna,” the name of
a Dutch man-of-war, carved on one of its sides, and our captain busied
himself for some time cutting “Telegraph,” the name of our yacht, beneath
it. Great quantities of sulphur were seen here, more, the governor said,
than he had noticed on any mountain in Java, for the abundance of sulphur
they all yield is one of the characteristics of the volcanoes of this
archipelago. It was now time to descend, and we called our guide, to whom
some one had given the classical prænomen of Apollo (a more appropriate
title at least than Mercury, for he never moved with winged feet); but
he could not tell where we ought to go, every thing appeared so very
different when we looked downward. I chose a place where the vegetation
was nearest the top, and asked him if I could go down there, to which, of
course, he answered yes, as most people do when they do not know what to
say, and must give some reply.
I had brought up with me an alpen-stock, or long stick, slightly curved
at one end, and with this I reached down and broke places for my heels
in the crust that covered the sand and loose stones. For hundreds of
feet beneath me the descent seemed perpendicular, but I slowly worked my
way downward for more than ninety feet, and had begun to congratulate
myself on the good progress I was making. Soon, I thought, I shall be
down there, where I can lay hold of that bush and feel that the worst is
past, when I was suddenly startled by a shout from my companions, who
were at some distance on my right. “Stop! Don’t go a step farther, but
climb directly up just as you went down.” I now looked round for the
first time, and found, to my astonishment, that I was on a tongue of land
between two deep, long holes or fissures, where great land-slides had
recently occurred. I had kept my attention so fixed on the bush before
me that I had never looked to the right or left—generally a good rule in
such trying situations. To go on was to increase my peril, so I turned,
climbed up again, and passed round the head of one of these frightful
holes. If at any time the crust had been weak, and had broken beneath
my heels, no earthly power could have saved me from instant death. As
I broke place after place for my feet with the staff, I thought of
Professor Tyndal’s dangerous ascent and descent of Monte Rosa. At last I
joined my companions, who had found the way we had come up, and after
some slips and sprains, and considerable bruising, we all reached the
bottom safely, and were glad to be off the volcano, and, landing on Banda
Neira, feel ourselves on _terra firma_ once more.
[Illustration: ASCENT OF BURNING MOUNTAIN; BANDA.]
For a few days I could scarcely walk or move my arms, but this lameness
soon passed away; not so with the impressions made on my mind by those
dangers: and even now, when I am suddenly aroused from sleep, for a
moment the past becomes the present, and I am once more on the tongue
of land, with a frightful gulf on either hand, or I am saving myself by
grasping _that_ fern.
According to the statements of the officials, many years ago a gentleman
had the hardihood to attempt to ascend this mountain alone. As he did not
return at the expected time, a party of natives was sent to search for
him, and his dead body was found some distance beneath the summit. The
rocks to which he had intrusted himself had probably given way, and the
only sensation that could have followed was one of falling and a quick
succession of stunning blows, and life was gone. Governor Arriens assured
me that the band of loose stones was the most dangerous place he had
ever crossed, though he had climbed many nearly perpendicular walls, but
always where the rocks were fixed and could be relied on for a footing
and a hold. If the ascent and descent were not so difficult, sulphur
might be gathered in such quantities at the summit crater that it would
form an important article of export. The authorities informed me that
much was obtained in former times, and that the natives who undertook
this perilous climbing were always careful to array themselves in _white_
before setting out, so that if they did lose their lives in the attempt
they would be dressed in the robes required by their creed, and at
once be taken to Paradise. The first European who reached its summit,
so far as I am aware, was Professor Reinwardt, in 1821; the second was
Dr. S. Müller, in 1828; and from that time till the 13th of September,
1865, when we ascended it, only one party had attempted this difficult
undertaking, and that was from the steamer Ætna, whose name we had found
on a large rock in the old crater.
The height of this volcano we found to be only two thousand three hundred
and twenty-one English feet. Its spreading base is considerably less than
two miles square. In size, therefore, it is insignificant compared to the
gigantic mountains on Lombok, Java, and Sumatra; but when we consider the
great amount of suffering and the immense destruction of property that
has been caused by its repeated eruptions, it becomes one of the most
important volcanoes in the archipelago.[37] In 1615 an eruption occurred
in March, just as the Governor-General, Gerard Reynst, arrived from Java
with a large fleet to complete the war of extermination that the Dutch
had been waging with the aborigines for nearly twenty years.
For some time previous to 1820, many people lived on the lower flanks of
Gunong Api, and had succeeded in forming large groves of nutmeg-trees.
On the 11th of June of that year, just before twelve o’clock, in an
instant, without the slightest warning, an eruption began which was so
violent that all the people at once fled to the shore and crossed over
in boats to Banda Neira. Out of the summit rose perpendicularly great
masses of ashes, sand, and stones, heated until they gave out light like
living coals. The latter hailed down on every side, and, as the accounts
say, “set fire to the woods and soon changed the whole mountain into
one immense cone of flame.” This happened, unfortunately, during the
western monsoon; and so great a quantity of sand and ashes was brought
over to Banda Neira, that the branches of the nutmeg-trees were loaded
down until they broke beneath its weight, and all the parks on the island
were totally destroyed. Even the water became undrinkable, from the light
ashes that filled the air and settled down in every crevice. The eruption
continued incessantly for thirteen days, and did not wholly cease at the
end of six weeks. During this convulsion the mountain was apparently
split through in a north-northwest and south-southeast direction. The
large, active crater which we saw beneath us on the northwestern flanks
of the mountain, from the spot where we stopped to lunch, was formed at
that time, and another was reported higher up between that new crater
and the older one on the top of the mountain. A stream of lava poured
down the western side into a small bay, and built up a tongue of land
one hundred and eighty feet long. The fluid rock heated the sea within
a radius of more than half a mile, and nearer the shore eggs were cooked
in it. This stream of lava is the more remarkable, because it is a
characteristic of the volcanoes throughout the archipelago, that, instead
of pouring out molten rock, they only eject hot stones, sand, and ashes,
and such materials as are thrown up where the eruptive force has already
reached its maximum and is growing weaker and weaker.
On the 22d of April, 1824, while Governor-General Van der Capellen
was entering the road, an eruption commenced, just as had happened
two hundred and nine years before, on the arrival of Governor-General
Reynst. A great quantity of ashes again suddenly rose from its summit,
accompanied by clouds of “black smoke,” in which lightnings darted, while
a heavy thundering rolled forth that completely drowned the salute from
the forts on Neira. This was followed, on the 9th of June, by a second
eruption, which was succeeded by a rest of fourteen days, when the
volcano again seemed to have regained its strength, and once more ashes
and glowing stones were hurled into the air and fell in showers on its
sides.
But the people of Banda have suffered quite as much from earthquakes
as from eruptions, though the latter are usually attended by slight
shocks.[38] Almost the first objects that attract one’s attention on
landing at the village are the ruins caused by the last of these
destructive phenomena. Many houses were levelled to the ground, but
others that were built with special care suffered little injury. Their
walls are made of coral rock or bricks. They are two or three feet
thick and covered with layers of plaster. At short distances, along
their outer side, sloping buttresses are placed against them, so that
many of the Banda residences look almost as much like fortifications as
dwelling-houses. The first warning any one had of the destruction that
was coming was a sudden streaming out of the water from the enclosed
bay, until the war-brig Haai, which was lying at anchor in eight or nine
fathoms, touched the bottom. Then came in a great wave from the ocean
which rose at least to a height of twenty-five or thirty feet over the
low, western part of the village, which is only separated from Gunong
Api by the narrow Sun Strait. The praus lying near this shore were swept
up against Fort Nassau, which was then so completely engulfed, as it
was stated to me on the spot, that one of these native boats remained
inside the fort when the water had receded to its usual level. The part
of the village over which the flood swept contained many small houses,
and nearly every one in them was carried away. The rapid outflowing of
the water of this enclosed bay (which is really only an old crater) was
probably caused either by the elevation of the bottom at that spot, or
else by such a sinking of the floor of the sea outside, that the water
was drained off into some depression which had suddenly been formed. We
have no reason to suppose that there was any great commotion in the
open ocean, and certainly there was no high wave or bore, or it would
have risen on the shores of the neighboring islands. There are three
entrances or straits which lead from the road out to the open sea. Two of
these are wide and one is narrow. When the whole top of the old volcano,
that is, Banda Neira, Gunong Api, Lontar, and the area they enclose,
was raised for a moment, the water steamed out from the crater through
these straits, causing only strong currents, but as the land instantly
sank to its former level, the water poured in, and the streams of the
two wider straits, meeting and uniting, rolled on toward the inner end
of the narrow strait. Here they all met, and, piling up, spread out over
the adjoining low village, causing a great destruction of life. At the
Resident’s house, a few hundred yards east of Fort Nassau, the water
only rose some ten or fifteen feet above high-water level, and farther
east still less. The cause assigned above, though the principal one, may
therefore not have been sufficient in itself to have made the sea rise
so high over the southwestern part of Banda Neira and the opposite part
of Gunong Api, and I suspect that an additional cause was that the land
there sank for a moment below its proper level. Valentyn thus describes
another less destructive earthquake wave: “In the year 1629 there was
a great earthquake, and half an hour afterward a flood which was very
great, and came in calm weather. The sea between Neira and Selam” (on the
western part of Lontar) “rose up like a high mountain and struck on the
right side of Fort Nassau, where the water rose nine feet higher than in
common spring floods. Several houses near the sea were broken into pieces
and washed away, and the ship Briel, lying near by, was whirled round
three times.”[39]
However, all these events are but as yesterday when we glance over the
early history of this ancient volcano; for, if we can judge by analogy,
taking as our guide the great crater already referred to as this day
existing among the lofty Tenger Mountains on Java, we see in our mind’s
eye an immense volcanic mountain before us. From its high crater during
the lapse of time pour out successive overflows of lava which has
solidified into the trachyte of Lontar. That period is succeeded by one
in which ashes, sand, and hot stones are ejected, and which insensibly
passes into recent times. During one of these mighty throes the western
half of the crater-wall disappeared beneath the sea, if the process of
subsidence had gone on so far at that time. Slowly it sinks until it
is at least four feet lower than at the present day, for we found on
the western end of Lontar a large bank of coral rock at that height.
The outer islands are now wholly submerged. This period of subsidence
is followed by one of upheaval, but not till the slow-building coral
polyps had made great reefs, which have become white, chalky cliffs, and
attained their present elevation above the sea. A tropical vegetation by
degrees spreads downward, closely pursuing the retreating sea, and the
islands become exactly what they are at the present day.
The Banda group form but a point in the wide area of the residency of
Banda. All the eastern part of Ceram is included in it, the southwest
coast of New Guinea, and the many islands south and southwest to the
northern part of Timur. Southeast of Ceram are the Ceram-laut, that is,
“Ceram lying to seaward,” or Keffing group, numbering seventeen islands.
Their inhabitants are like those I saw on the south coast of Ceram,
and do not belong to the Papuan or negro race. They are great traders,
and constantly visit the adjoining coast of New Guinea, where they
purchase birds of paradise, many _luris_ or parrots of various genera,
“crown pigeons,” _Megapodiideæ_, scented woods, and very considerable
quantities of wild nutmegs, which they sell to the Bugis traders, who
usually touch here at Banda on their outward and homeward passages. I
saw many of the wild nutmegs that had been brought in this way from New
Guinea. Instead of being spherical, like those cultivated here at Banda,
they are elliptical in outline, frequently an inch or an inch and a
quarter long, and about three-fourths of an inch in diameter. They do
not, however, have the rich, pungent aroma of the Banda nutmegs, and
this, I am assured, is also the case with all wild ones wherever found,
and even with those raised on Sumatra and Pinang from seeds and plants
originally carried from these islands. Wild nutmegs are also found on
Damma southwest of Banda, and on Amboina, Ceram, Buru, Batchian, the Obi
Islands, and Gilolo, also on the islands east of the latter, and on the
northern coast of the western part of New Guinea. This fruit is widely
planted by the “nut-crackers,” two large species of doves, _Columba
ænea_, Tem., and _Columba perspicillata_, Tem., which swallow the nuts
covered with the mace, the only part digested. The kernel enclosed in its
hard, polished shell is soon voided, while it yet retains the germinating
power, and a young tree springs up far from its parent.
East of this group is that of Goram, composed of three islands,
inhabited by natives who are Mohammedans. Southeast of Goram is the
Matabella group. Indeed, these groups are so united that they form but
one archipelago. The Ceram-laut Islands are low, but those of Goram and
Matabella are high. On the island Teor, or Tewer, in the last group,
there is a volcano which suffered a great eruption in 1659. Mr. Wallace
describes the Matabellas as partly composed of coral reefs raised from
three to four hundred feet. Sometimes these people go as far west as
Sumbawa and Bali. The “Southeastern Islands” begin on the north with
the Ki group, ten in number, south of the former archipelago. Three
of the Kis are large islands and two are high, a peak on one being
estimated at about three thousand feet. They are so well peopled that
they are supposed to contain over twenty thousand souls. The natives are
very industrious, and famous as boat-builders. The wood they use comes
from their own hill-sides, and they need no iron to complete boats of
considerable size, which they sell to the inhabitants of all that part
of the archipelago. Farther to the east are the Aru (in Dutch, Aroe)
Islands, that is, “the islands of the casuarina-trees.” They number about
eighty, and are very low, forming a chain about a hundred miles long
and half as broad. When seen on the west they appear as one continuous,
low island; but on coming nearer, intricate channels are found winding
among them, through which set strong tidal currents. The people are said
to closely resemble those of Haruku, Saparua, and Nusalaut. The total
population is given at only fourteen thousand. A few are Christians,
and two or three native schoolmasters from Amboina are employed there.
Papuans are said to live on the most eastern island. Large quantities of
tripang are gathered on the shallow coral banks of these low islands,
and in the sea the dugong, _Halicore dugong_, Cuv., is seen. The great
bird of paradise, _P. apoda_, is found here, and also the red bird of
paradise, _P. regia_. The skins of these beautiful birds were probably
brought here to Banda and sold to the Chinese traders for many ages,
but the first account we have of them is by Pigafetta, who accompanied
Magellan’s fleet. He says that the king of Bachian, an island west of
the southern end of Gilolo, gave his companions a slave and nearly two
hundred pounds of cloves as a present for their Emperor, Charles V.,
and also “two most beautiful dead birds. These are about the size of
a thrush, have small heads, long bills, legs a palm in length and as
slender as a writing-quill. In lieu of proper wings, they have long
feathers of different colors, like great ornamental plumes. The tail
resembles that of a thrush. All the feathers except those of the wings
are of a dark color. It never flies except when the wind blows. We
were informed these birds came from the terrestrial Paradise, and they
called them _bolondinata_,[40] that is, ‘birds of God.’” This word the
Portuguese translated into their language as “ave de paraiso,” and hence
our name “birds of paradise,” a name well chosen, for in some species the
feathers have all the appearance of the most brilliant jewels. Southwest
of the Ki Islands lies Timur-laut, and passing on toward Timur we come to
the “Southwestern Islands,” composed of the Baba, Sermatta, Letti, Roma,
Wetta, and Lamma groups, which we noticed as we steamed away from Dilli.
Returning northward from Wetta, we come to Gunong Api, an uninhabited
volcano, rising between six and seven thousand feet above the sea. It is
a well-known landmark for the ships bound to China that have passed up
the Ombay Passage, or those coming down the Floris Sea, intending to pass
out through that strait into the Indian Ocean. Northeast of Gunong Api
are the Lucipara and Turtle (in Dutch Schilpad) Islands, which praus from
Amboina frequently visit for tortoise-shell. East of Gunong Api is Nila,
an active volcano, about seventeen hundred feet in height, and north of
it is Serua, which is merely a volcanic cone rising abruptly from the
sea. In 1694 a great eruption took place in this volcano. A part of the
crater wall fell in, and the lava overflowed until the whole island is
represented as having become one “sea of fire,” and all the inhabitants
were obliged to flee to Banda. Again, in September, 1844, after a rest of
a hundred and fifty years, another eruption began, which compelled every
one to leave its inhospitable shores once more. Since that time it has
been settled again, and here in Banda are many of the boats its people
bring in the latter part of this month, when continuously for days not a
breeze ripples the glassy sea—halcyon days indeed. As the natives have no
iron, the whole boat is built of wood. The central part is low, but the
bow and stern curve up high, quite different from all I have seen in any
other part of the archipelago, and reminding one of the representations
usually given of those used in some parts of the South Sea.
While I had been turning my attention to geology, the native who was
assisting me to collect shells was searching for a “hunter,” that is, one
who can skin birds. He soon had the good fortune to find one, who was
also a native of Amboina, for all these natives dislike those of another
village, and only associate with them when they can find none of their
own people. During the few days we were at the Bandas they collected
several species of most beautiful kingfishers; indeed, those who have
seen only our sombre-colored specimens can scarcely conceive of the
rich plumage these birds assume in the tropical East. They were also so
fortunate as to find a few superb specimens of a very rare and valuable
bird, with scarcely any tail, and having eight very different colors,
the _Pitta vigorsi_. An allied species is found on the Arru Islands, and
another on Buru, a third on Gilolo, and a fourth on Celebes, but none is
yet known on the great island of Ceram.
We now steamed back to Amboina, and while the yacht was taking in coal
and preparing to go to Ceram, I crossed over Laitimur with the governor.
Our procession was headed by a native carrying a large Dutch flag, and
after him came a “head man,” supported on the right by a man beating
a _tifa_, and on the left by another beating a gong. Then came the
governor, borne in a large chair by a dozen coolies, and I, in a similar
chair, carried by the same number. From the city we at once ascended
a series of hills, sparsely covered with shrubbery, and composed of a
soft red sandstone, which is rapidly disintegrating, and is evidently
of very recent origin. It is found on the highest elevation we crossed,
which is from fifteen to eighteen hundred feet above the sea. Near this
point we descended into a small ravine, where the soft sandstone had
been washed away, and the underlying rocks were exposed to view. Here we
found feldspathic porphyry and serpentine. Thence we crossed other hills
of sandstone and came down to the sea-shore at the village of Rutong.
We were hoping to find a small hill of granite that Dr. Schneider had
discovered, but we were not able to identify the places he describes.
Dr. Bleeker, who crossed over to Ema in 1856, remarks that the first
hills he ascended were composed of coral rock, and that he came on to it
again when he descended toward the sea-shore. We did not notice it at
this time, but, on my first excursion to the cocoa plantation on Hitu, I
found a long coral reef, fully five hundred feet above the sea. It was
a perfect repetition of the reef I visited in the bay of the Portuguese
village of Dilli, at the northern end of Timur. A small place had been
cleared on its crest, and there I found several pairs of the huge valves
of the _Tridacna gigas_, which appeared from their relative position
to have been once partially surrounded by the soft coral rock, which,
having been washed away, allowed the valves to fall apart. They were much
decayed, but had not lost more than half their weight. They had evidently
never been brought there by men; because the natives rarely or never use
them for food. There is no need that they should take the trouble to
gather such enormous bivalves when they have a plenty of sago-palms, and
all that it is necessary for them to do to obtain an abundance of food is
to cut down these trees and dig out the pith. If, in former times, they
did collect the _Tridacna_ for food, they never would have carried these
great shells, each of which originally weighed a hundred pounds or more,
a mile back among the hills, but would have taken out the animal and left
them on the shore. Governor Arriens, who had carefully studied these
recent reefs, stated to me that he had found them as high up as eight
hundred feet above the sea, but at that elevation they seem to disappear.
When returning we stopped for some time on the hills back of the city
to enjoy a magnificent view of the bay and the high hills rising on the
opposite side. Just then the broad strati, floating in the west, parted,
and rays of bright sunlight, darting through their fissures, lighted up
the dark water beneath us. There were not many vessels and praus at
anchor off the city at that time, but I was informed that in about a
month later many would arrive, for the dry season, with its clear sky and
light winds, had set in about the 15th of September, when we arrived from
Banda.
About two hundred vessels and praus of all kinds come to Amboina in a
year. The praus are owned and commanded by the natives themselves, but
most of the vessels are commanded by mestizoes and owned by Arabs and
Chinese, who carry on the larger part of the trade in the eastern part
of the archipelago. Since a line of steamers has been established, these
Arabs and Chinese avail themselves of that means of importing their
goods from Batavia and Surabaya, where they are received directly from
Europe. The total value of the imports is from a half to three-quarters
of a million of guilders. The chief article is cotton fabrics, and the
next rice, which is shipped here all the way from Java and Sumatra for
the sustenance of the troops. Very little rice is raised on any of
these islands, because there are no low, level lands suitable for its
cultivation. In the Bandas the whole attention of the population is so
devoted to cultivating the nutmeg that they are entirely dependent on
other islands for a supply of food. The most important exports from this
island are cloves, cocoa, kayu-puti oil, nutmegs, various kinds of woods,
and mace. Formerly the inhabitants of Ceram-laut, Goram, and the Arru
Islands were accustomed to bring their tripang, tortoise-shell, paradise
birds, and massoi-bark to this port to sell to the Bugis, but for the
last forty or fifty years the Bugis have gone from Macassar directly to
those islands and traded with the people at their own villages. In 1854,
Amboina, Banda, Ternate, and Kayéli, were made free ports, but this has
not materially increased the trade at any of those places.
The period when the trade at Amboina was most flourishing was when it
was last held by the English, from 1814 to 1816. The port was then free,
but, when it once more passed into the hands of the Dutch, duties were
again demanded, which forced the trade into other channels, where it
still remains, notwithstanding there are now no duties. The proper remedy
has been applied, but applied too late. This is also the history of the
trade at Batavia, where the heavy duties have induced the traders of the
eastern part of the archipelago to sail directly to the free port of
Singapore.
I had been at Amboina a long time before I could ascertain where the
grave of Rumphius is located, and even then I found it only by chance—so
rarely is this great man spoken of at the present time. From the
common, back of the fort, a beautifully-shaded street leads up to the
east; and the stranger, while walking in this quiet retreat, has his
attention drawn to a small, square pillar in a garden. A thick group of
coffee-trees almost embrace it in their drooping branches, as if trying
to protect it from wind and rain and the consuming hand of Time. Under
that plain monument rest the mortal remains of the great naturalist.
The inscription, which explains itself, and shows how nearly this sacred
spot came to be entirely neglected and forgotten forever, reads as
follows:
MEMORIÆ SAORUM GEORGII EVERARDI RUMPHII,
de re botanica et historica naturali optime merita
TUMULUM
dira temporis calamitate et sacrilegia manufere
DIRUTUM,
Manibas placatis restitui jussit
et
pietatem reverentiamque publicam testificans
HOC MONUMENTUM
IPSE CONSECRAVIT
Godaras Alexander Grardus Phillipus
Liber Baro A. Capellen
Totius Indiæ Belgicæque
PREFECTUS REGIUS.
Amboinæ Mensis Aprilis,
Anno Domini M.DCCC.XXIV.
GEORGE EVERARD RUMPF, whose name has been latinized into Rumphius, as an
acknowledgment of the great service he has rendered to the scientific
world, was a German, a native of a small town in Hesse-Cassel. He was
born about the year 1626, and, having studied medicine, at the age of
twenty-eight went to Batavia, entered the mercantile service of the Dutch
East India Company, and thence proceeded to Amboina, where he passed the
remainder of his life. At the age of forty-two, while contemplating a
voyage back to his native land, he suddenly became blind, and therefore
never left his adopted island home; yet he continued to prosecute his
favorite studies in natural history till his death, which occurred in
1693, when he had attained the ripe age of sixty-seven.
His great work on the shells of Amboina, which was not published till
1705, twelve years after his death, was for a long time the acknowledged
standard to which all conchological writers referred. His most extensive
work, however, was the “Hortus Amboinense,” which was only rescued from
the Dutch archives and published at the late date of forty-eight years
after his death. It contains the names and careful descriptions of the
plants of this region, their flowering seasons, their _habitats_, their
uses, and the modes of caring for those that are cultivated. When we
consider that, in his time, neither botany nor zoology had become a
science, and consider, moreover, the amount and the accuracy of the
information he gives us, we agree with his contemporaries in giving him
the high but well-merited title of “the Indian Pliny.”
CHAPTER VIII.
BURU.
_Sept. 25th._—Steamed down the bay from Amboina, this time not without
a slight feeling of sadness as I recalled the many happy hours I had
passed gathering shells on its shores and rambling over its high hills,
and as I realized that it would probably never be my privilege to enjoy
those pleasures again. Only three months had elapsed since my arrival at
Batavia, but I had passed through so many and such different scenes, that
Amboina appeared to have been my home for a year—and so it seems to this
day.
As we came out of the mouth of the bay, we changed our course to the
west, and kept so near the land, that I had a fine opportunity to
reëxamine the places I had visited during a heavy storm, when the sea was
rolling into white surf and thundering along the shore.
Off the western end of Ceram lie three islands, Bonoa, Kilang, and
Manipa. Bonoa, the most easterly, is a hilly island about twelve miles
long and half as broad. Its population is divided into Christians and
Mohammedans, and each has such a bitter hatred against the other,
that the Christians at last determined to expatriate themselves, and
accordingly, in 1837, migrated to Bachian. The clove-gardens in Bonoa
were thus in danger of being neglected, and the man who was governor of
the Moluccas at that time therefore sent messengers to induce them to
return; but, when this measure proved unavailing, he went himself in a
war-ship, and brought them back.
From Amboina we passed up the strait between Kilang and Manipa, which is
less than a mile wide, and made much narrower by long tongue-shaped reefs
of coral which project from several points. A fresh breeze had sprung
up from the south, and, under a full head of steam and a good press of
canvas, we ploughed through the waves which rolled up against the wind.
In all these straits the tidal currents are very strong, and in many
places so swift that a good boat cannot make headway against them with
oars, and this makes many of these narrow channels very dangerous for the
native boats.
That evening the bright fires built by the fishermen on the shores of
Bonoa were seen on our larboard side, and the next morning we were near
the Seven Brothers, a group of islands on the west side of Sawai Bay.
Here are three dangerous reefs not laid down on the charts, a mile or
more from the shore. As we passed, mountains three or four thousand feet
in height were seen standing by the sea near the head of the bay. At
noon we came to anchor in the little harbor of Wahai, which is formed by
coral reefs that are bare at low tide. Unfortunately, it is too small
for sailing-ships to enter safely, or it would be visited occasionally
by those of our whalers who frequent these seas. The whole village
consists of a small fort, a house for the commandant, who has the rank
of captain, a house for the doctor, and a few native huts on either hand.
The only communication the inhabitants of this isolated post have with
the rest of the world is by means of coolies, who cross over from the
head of Elpaputi Bay to the head of Sawai Bay, and then come along the
shore. All the natives in the interior are entirely independent of the
Dutch Government, and the coast natives, who carry the mail, are liable
to be robbed or killed at any moment while on their journey.
My hunter at once began collecting birds, while I searched the shores for
shells, and bought what the natives chanced to have in their miserable
dwellings. The most common shell here is an _Auricula_. Its peculiar
aperture, as its name implies, is like that of the human ear. It lives
on the soft, muddy flats, where the many-rooted mangrove thrives. The
rarest and most valuable shell found here, and indeed one of the rarest
living in all these seas, is the _Rostellaria rectirostris_. It is so
seldom found that a pair is frequently sold here for ten guilders, four
Mexican dollars. My hunter soon returned with two large white doves, the
_Carpophaga luctuosa_, and a very perfect specimen of that famous bird,
the _Platycercus hypophonius_, G. R. Gray, called by the Malays the
_castori rajah_, or “prince parrot,” from its being the most beautiful of
all that brilliantly-plumaged family. It is a small bird for a parrot.
The head, neck, and under parts are of a bright scarlet; the wings a
dark, rich green, and the back and rump a bright lapis-lazuli blue, that
shades off into a deeper blue in the tail, which is nearly as long as
the body. These birds generally fly in pairs, and as they dart through
the evergreen foliage, and you catch a glimpse of their graceful forms
and brilliant plumage, it seems like the momentary recollection of some
dream of Paradise. Large flocks of red luris, _Eos rubra_, Gml., other
species of parrakeets, and many sorts of doves, frequent the surrounding
woods, and several species of kingfishers and snipes live by the shore.
For three days I enjoyed this rare hunting. We then steamed out of the
little bay of Wahai for the island of Buru. While passing Bonoa we
kept near the shore, and saw a large white monument which was erected
by the Portuguese, and is probably one of the _padroes_, or “pillars
of discovery,” placed there by D’Abreu when he first reached these
long-sought isles. Soon we passed Swangi, “Spirit Island,” a lonely rock
near Manipa, supposed by these superstitious natives to be haunted by
some evil spirit.
Buru, the island to which we were bound, lies a few miles west of Manipa.
Its area is estimated at about twenty-six hundred geographical square
miles, so that it is one-half larger than Bali or Lombok. Its form is
oval, with the greatest axis east and west. Its shores, instead of being
deeply indented, like those of all the larger islands in that region,
are entire, except on the northwest corner, where they recede and form
the great bay of Kayéli. The entrance to this bay is between two high
capes, three or four miles apart, so that on the northeast it is quite
open to the sea. Within these capes the shores become low, forming on
the southwest a large morass; and the bay expands to the east and west
until it is about seven miles long. In the low lands bordering the south
side of this bay is the Dutch “bezitting,” or post, also named Kayéli.
Here is a small, well-built fort, in which are stationed a lieutenant and
doctor, and a company of militia from Java or Madura. A _controleur_ has
charge of the civil department, and the governor had kindly given me a
note to him, and he and his good lady at once received me kindly, and,
as it proved, I made my home with them and the doctor for a long time.
The plan the governor proposed was that we should leave for Ternate and
New Guinea in five days after the steamer landed me at Kayéli. Those
five days passed, but no steamer appeared. Again and again I watched by
the hour, hoping, almost expecting, to be able to discern smoke on the
horizon, and soon see the Telegraph coming into the harbor. Thus a week
passed, then ten days, and by this time all, like myself, had come to the
conviction that some unexpected and unfortunate event must have happened.
But what was it? No one could tell. Fifteen days of such uncertainty and
solicitude passed, when a large prau was seen coming in from the sea. It
brought me a letter from Governor Arriens, stating that just as he was
on the point of coming to take me, as proposed, news came that a great
revolt had broken out in Ceram. Immediately he accompanied the captain
of a large man-of-war, whose duty it was to put down all insurrections.
When they arrived off the village, the captain, contrary to the advice
of all, landed with a small force, hoping to be able to treat with the
rebels, but he had scarcely touched the shore when a party of them in
ambush poured a volley into his boat, wounding him twice severely, but
not fatally. I now found myself really banished, for the yacht was needed
too much to come and take me away. I therefore resigned myself quietly to
my fate, and determined to profit by the opportunity to make a collection
of the beautiful birds of the island. My first excursion was to a cliff
on the southeast side of the bay, near its mouth, which I found was
composed of metamorphic schists, that were very much fissured by joints
and seams, and fell apart in cubical blocks. Another place I frequently
visited was the low morass on the southwest side of the bay, through
which flows out a stream of such size that a large canoe can ascend it
for three days. Along the canals in this morass is a thick forest, the
high branches of which meet above, forming for a considerable distance
grand covered avenues. Here the kingfishers delight to gather, and,
perching on the lower boughs, occasionally dart downward, like falling
arrows, into the quiet water. It was most delightful, during the heat of
the day, to glide along in these cool and shady canals, which wind to
and fro, and in such an endless series of curves and angles, that no one
could weary of the rich, almost oppressive, vegetation that continually
surrounds him. At the mouth of this small river are long shallow banks of
sand, which are bare at low tide, and on these are many large snags and
logs that have come down the streams and grounded while on their way to
the sea. On these wide banks, as the ebbing ceases and the tide begins to
flow, long lines of gulls, sand-pipers, plovers, and curlews, gather,
and, as the water advances, they are forced to approach the shore until
the only resting-places left them are the logs and snags that raise their
crooked limbs and roots above the surface of the water. At such times
these perching-places are one living, fluttering mass of birds. Again and
again I came to this spot, and always returned with as many specimens as
my native hunter could skin on the following day.
A few minutes’ walk back of the _controleur’s_ house took me into the
surrounding forest, where I was accustomed to ramble to and fro hour
after hour until I knew all the favorite haunts of most of the birds; yet
nearly every day, till the time I left, I secured specimens of a species
that had not been represented in my collection. Still others were seen,
and one or more specimens of them must be obtained; and thus, the more I
collected, the more interesting became my work. My regular daily routine
was to hunt in the morning till ten or eleven o’clock, return to the
house to avoid the heat, and then go out again about four, and remain
till the setting sun warned me to return or grope my way back as best
I could through the dark woods. Soon after I arrived, a tree, as large
as our oak, became filled with great scarlet flowers, and in the early
morning flocks of red luris (_Eos rubra_, Gml.) and other parrakeets,
with blue heads, red and green breasts, and the feathers on the under
side of the wings of a light red and brilliant yellow (_Trichoglossus
cyanogrammus_, Wagl.), would come to feed on them. It was easy to know
where those birds had begun their morning feast by their loud, unceasing
screeching and chattering; and, after stealthily creeping through dense
shrubbery for hundreds of yards, I would suddenly behold one of these
great trees filled with scores of such brilliantly-plumaged birds, flying
about or climbing out to the ends of the branches, and using their wings
to aid in poising themselves while they made a dainty breakfast on the
rich flowers. These are indeed the birds that Moore describes as—
“Gay, sparkling loories, such as gleam between
The crimson flowers of the coral-tree
In the warm isles of India’s sunny sea.”
[Illustration: A JUNGLE.]
Soon after sunset huge bats always came out, in pairs, and sailed about
on their leathery wings, searching for those trees that chanced to be
in fruit. The wings of a male that I shot measured four feet and four
inches from tip to tip, and the wings of the female, which accompanied
him, expanded four feet eight inches. They are very properly named by the
Dutch, “flying foxes,” and almost seem to be antediluvian monsters, which
ought to have disappeared from the face of the earth long ago, like the
formidable _Pterodactyles_. During the day they hide away in the thick
foliage, and one afternoon I found one hanging, as they delight to do
when they rest or sleep, with its head downward, from the limb of a tree.
They are very tenacious of life, and will receive charge after charge of
large shot in the head before they will let go of the limbs with their
crooked claws and allow themselves to fall. They are said to be good for
food, but I never saw the natives eat them, and certainly had no desire
myself to try the flavor of such questionable meat. A small path, leading
a mile through the forest, brought me out on to a large open field or
prairie, covered with a coarse grass as high as a man’s shoulders. Beyond
this was another forest, and there I was informed was a settlement of two
or three houses, the farthest place inland inhabited by any of the coast
people or common Malays. Beyond that point there is not the slightest
footpath. All the hills and high mountains, which I could see toward the
interior of the island, are covered with one dense, unbroken forest, and
only on some of the lower hills, bordering the bay, are there open areas
of grass. What a nice thing it would be to live out there for a week in
the midst of that forest! My mind was made up to do it. I returned and
explained my plan to the _controleur_, and the next day we set off to
hire one of the distant huts. The farthest one from Kayéli, and exactly
the one I wanted, chanced to be unoccupied, for the native who owned it
had found the place so lonely that he had deserted it and taken up his
abode in the village. The rent for a week was agreed to without much
parleying. The owner further agreed to send his son to bring water and
keep house while I and my hunter were away, and to be generally useful,
which he interpreted to mean that he would only do what he could not
avoid. Another man was engaged as cook, and my domestic arrangements
were complete, for I purposed not only to live in a native house, but to
conform entirely to the Malay _cuisine_. Our cooking-apparatus consisted
of a couple of shallow kettles and a small frying-pan; and the little
teapot that accompanied me on my Amboina excursions was not left behind.
_October 16th._—This morning we came out to our forest home. Our house
is about eight feet wide, twelve feet long, and perched upon large posts
four feet from the ground. It is divided by a transverse partition into
a front room or parlor, and a back room or kitchen. In one corner of the
latter is a square framework filled with ashes, in which are inserted
three long stones, whose tops slightly incline toward each other. These
are to support the kettles, for no Malay has ever conceived of a machine
for cooking so complicated as a crane. As to a chimney, there is none
whatever, but the smoke is allowed to escape under the eaves or through a
hole in the side of the house that also serves for a window. The frame of
the house is made from small trees. For a flooring, broad sheets of bark
are used. The walls are made of _gaba-gaba_, the dry midribs of large
palm-leaves, and the roof is of _atap_. The front door is in one of the
gable ends, and is reached by a rickety ladder of two rounds. This part
is transformed into a rude piazza by a shed-roof, beneath which we have
made a seat and a kind of table for the hunter to use in skinning birds.
My daily routine here is the same as before—hunting every morning and
evening, with a native to carry my ammunition and to pick up the birds—a
very difficult task whenever we are in the thick jungle or among the
tall grass. Near our house is the stony bed of a torrent, which is now
perfectly dry. It is the only cleared way there is through the dense
forest around us, and I avail myself of it to travel up toward the
mountains and down toward the sea. Indeed, I feel proud of our grand
highway. True, it is not paved with blocks all carefully cut down to one
precise model, and so exactly uniform as to be absolutely painful to the
eye, but Nature herself has paved it in her own inimitable way—notice
how all the stones have been rounded by the boiling torrent which pours
down here from the mountains during the rainy season. Some are almost
perfect ellipsoides or spheres, but most are disk-shaped, for they are
made from thin fragments of slate that had sharp corners when they broke
away from their parent mountain. To prevent a dull uniformity of color,
she has scattered here and there rounded boulders of opaque milk-white
quartz, fragments, undoubtedly, from beds of that rock which, at this
place at least, are interstratified with the slate. Here and there are
deeper places, where the troubled stream was accustomed to rest before
it went on again in a foaming torrent to empty its sparkling waters into
the wide sea, the original source of all streams. By this way I visit my
nearest neighbors and procure chickens, which our cook roasts on sticks
over the fire, after having carefully rubbed them with salt and a liberal
allowance of red pepper, the two universal condiments among the Malays.
For ages all the salt these people have had has been brought from Java.
The red pepper thrives well everywhere without the slightest care, and
it is almost always found growing near every hut. A large bush of it at
one corner of our house is now filled with fruit of all sizes; some small
and green, and some fully grown and showing it is already ripe by its
bright-pink color. In this condition the Malays gather and dry it, and
always carry a good supply wherever they go. Its Malay name is _lombok_,
but the one more generally used is the Javanese name _chabé_. Besides
chickens, we have paddy, that is, rice in the husk. A large elliptical
hole is made in a log for a mortar, a small quantity of paddy is then
poured in and pounded with a stick five or six feet long, and as large
round as a man’s arm. This is raised vertically, and, when the hole is
nearly even full, a native will usually pound off all the husks without
scattering more than a few grains on the ground; but, if a foreigner
attempts it, he will be surprised to see how the rice will fly off in
all directions at every blow. When the husks are pounded off they are
separated from the kernels by being tossed up from a shallow basket and
carried away by the wind, as our farmers used to winnow grain. This is
the only mode of preparing rice practised by the Malays, and the process
is the same in every part of the archipelago. From one corner of our
piazza hangs a large bunch of green bananas to ripen in the sunshine. I
find it very agreeable to pluck off a nice ripe one myself when I come in
weary and thirsty from a long hunt. From the other corner hangs a cluster
of cocoa-nuts filled with clear, cool, refreshing water.
Not far from us is a hut inhabited by two natives, who are engaged in
cultivating tobacco. Their _ladangs_, or gardens, are merely places of
an acre or less, where the thick forest has been partially destroyed
by fire, and the seed is sown in the regular spaces between the stumps.
As soon as the leaves are fully grown they are plucked off, and the
petiole and a part of the midrib are cut away. Each leaf is then cut
transversely into strips about a sixteenth of an inch wide, and these are
dried in the sun until a mass of them looks like a bunch of oakum. It
is then ready for use, and at once carried to market. This cosmopolite,
_Nicotiana tabacum_, is a native of our own country. Las Casas says
that the Spaniards on Columbus’s first voyage saw the natives in Cuba
smoking it in tubes called _tabacos_, hence its name. Mr. Crawford
states that, according to a Javanese chronicle, it was introduced into
Java in the year 1601, ninety years after the conquest of Malacca by
the Portuguese, who were probably the first Europeans that furnished it
to the Javanese, as the Dutch had not yet formed an establishment on
the island. It is now cultivated in every part of the archipelago. The
fact that this narcotic was originally found only in America leads us to
infer, without raising the questions whether our continent received her
aboriginal population from some other part of the globe, or whether they
were created here, that there never has been any extensive migration of
our Indians or red-men to the islands in the Pacific, or to any distant
part of the world; for if they had colonized any area, in that place
at least, its use would undoubtedly continue to exist at the present
day, since it is probable that they would never have thought of going
to a new land without taking with them this plant, which they valued
more even than food, and which they had been accustomed to cultivate.
If, after establishing themselves in their new colony, they had been
overpowered and completely destroyed by some more powerful tribe, their
conquerors would probably have become addicted to the same habit as
readily as the people of every clime and every stage of civilization do
now, and thus the practice would have been perpetuated, though the people
who introduced it perished ages ago, and all the idols, and temples,
and fortifications they might have made, have long since crumbled into
dust. This inference is greatly strengthened, if we consider the past and
present geographical distribution of maize, or Indian corn, which is also
a native of our continent only, and, like tobacco, is now raised in every
part of the archipelago. Unlike rice, this plant thrives on hill-sides
and elevated lands, and can therefore be raised on all the larger islands
in these seas, where there are few level areas that can be readily
inundated for the cultivation of rice. It was also probably introduced by
the Portuguese, for Juan Gaetano, a Spanish pilot, who visited Mindanao
in 1642, twenty-one years after the discovery of the Philippines by
Magellan, states[41] that “in a certain part of that island ruled by
the Moors” (Arabs), “there are some small artillery, and hogs, deer,
buffaloes, and other animals of the chase, with Castilian” (or common)
“fowls, rice, palms, and cocoa-nuts. There is no maize in that island,
but for bread they use rice and a bark which they call sagu, from which
also they extract oil in like manner as they do from palms.”
As maize is not difficult to be transported on account of its bulk or
liability to any injury, and formed the chief article of food among most
of our red-men, it would be the very provision they would take with them
on their migrations; and as the part eaten is the fruit, they would have
plenty of seed, and would know from their previous experience precisely
how to cultivate it.
One part of the surrounding forest is a grove of _jati_, or teak-trees,
_Tectona grandis_, Linn. Those found here are only a foot or fifteen
inches in diameter and forty feet high, a size they attain in Java in
twenty-five or thirty years, where they do not reach their full growth
in less than a century. The native name _jati_ is a word of Javanese
origin, signifying true, or genuine, and was probably applied to these
trees on account of the well-known durability of the wood they yield.
Now, near the end of the dry monsoon, they have lost nearly all their
foliage; for, though it is sometimes asserted that in the tropics the
leaves fall imperceptibly one by one, that is not true, in this region,
where there are well-defined wet and dry seasons. The teak also thrives
in a few places on the continent, and is found in the central and eastern
provinces of Java, in Madura, Bali, and particularly in Sumbawa, where
the wood is considered better than that of Java, but it is said to be
unknown in Sumatra, Borneo, and in the peninsula of Malacca. It exists in
some places in Celebes, but the natives assert that the seed was brought
there from Java by one of the sovereigns of Tanéte. It is therefore
uncertain whether the teak is a native of this island. In the early
morning, and again soon after sunset, flocks of large green parrots,
_Tanygnathus macrorynchus_, Wagl., come to these trees to feed on the
fruit which is now ripe. They are so wary that it is extremely difficult
to get near them, especially as the large dry leaves of this tree cover
the ground and continually crack and rustle beneath one’s feet. To see
these magnificent birds flying back and forth in the highest glee, while
they remain unconscious of danger, is a grand sight, and it seems little
less than absolute wickedness to shoot one, even when it is to be made
the subject, not of idle gazing, but of careful study, and it requires
still greater resolution to put an end to one’s admiration and pull the
fatal trigger. When one of these birds has been wounded, its mate, and
sometimes the whole flock, hearing its cries, at once comes back, as if
hoping to relieve its misery.
In many places in this vicinity the tall canari-tree is seen raising
its high crest, and there flocks of cream-colored doves, _Carpophaga
luctuosa_, gather to feed on its fruit. Their loud, continuous cooing
leads the hunter a long way through the jungle. Among the limbs of the
lower trees are seen the long-tailed doves, _Carpophaga perspiclata_.
On the banks of the dry brook, near our house, are bunches of bamboos,
through which flit fly-catchers, _Muscicapidæ_, and the beautiful
_Monarcha loricata_, a slender bird about as large as a martin, of a
blue above, and a pure, almost silvery white beneath, except on the
throat, which is covered with scale-like feathers, of a rich metallic
blue-black. So far as is known, this beautiful bird is only found on this
island. In the bushes and shrubbery is constantly heard the cheerful
note of a bird, the _Trobidorynchus bouruensis_, somewhat larger than
our robin. By day I enjoyed this Robinson Crusoe life very much, but the
mosquitoes proved such a torment by night that we could scarcely sleep. A
great smouldering fire was made under our hut, but its only effect was to
increase our misery, and make the mosquitoes more bloodthirsty. We were
frequently disturbed also by several yellow dogs, which came to crunch
what chicken-bones the cook had thrown away, and to upset every thing
around the house that was not already in a state of stable equilibrium.
Afterward, when all was still, occasionally a heavy crash sighed through
the deep woods, caused by the falling of some old tree, whose roots had
been slowly consumed by the fires that prevail in the neighborhood during
the dry season.
At the end of a week my hunter had preserved the skins of sixty-three
beautiful birds, including specimens of six species that I had not
secured before. We now returned to Kayéli; and though there were only
eight white persons in the whole place, I could nevertheless feel that I
was returning to civilization, and that I could speak some other language
than Malay.
The village of Kayéli is really composed of eleven separate parts, or
_kampongs_, all situated on a low, marshy place, a couple of hundred
yards back from the sand-beach. They are separated from each other by
a little stream, or _kali_, and each has its own rajah, and formerly
had its own little square mosque, for all these eleven tribes are
Mohammedans, and keep separate from each other, because they lived in
different parts of the island when the Dutch arrived. In the centre of
this village is a large, square lawn, formed by the fort, the residence
of a _controleur_, and a few other houses. Back of the lawn is the
Christian kampong; for in every village where there are Mohammedans and
Christians, each has a separate part to itself. Occasionally, instead
of a healthful spirit of rivalry, a more bitter hostility springs up
than existed between the Jews and the Samaritans, and finally the weaker
party is obliged to migrate, as in the case mentioned in regard to the
inhabitants of Bonoa.
From Valentyn we learn that, according to native accounts, as early as
A. D. 1511, ten years before the arrival of the Portuguese, the Sultan
of Ternate sent out expeditions which subjected all the tribes of this
island. In 1652 a treaty was made between the sultan and the Dutch, that
all the clove-trees on the island should be uprooted. The natives opposed
this measure to the best of their ability, but after a resistance which
lasted five years, they were completely subjected, all their clove-trees
were destroyed, and they were obliged to remove to Kayéli Bay, and
live under the range of the Dutch cannon. Since that time (1657), the
clove-tree has never been introduced again. Previous to the expedition of
the Sultan of Ternate in 1511, the shores of the island were occupied
by the Malays, who had already subjected the earliest inhabitants of the
island of which we have any knowledge. During my stay at Kayéli I saw
several of them, though they are always shy about entering the village.
Like the Alfura of Ceram, they resemble the Malays in stature and general
appearance, but are distinguished from them by their darker color, and
by their hair, which is frizzly, not lank like that of the Malays, and
not woolly, like that of the Papuans. As in Ceram, many of them suffer
from that unsightly disease, icthyosis, in which the skin becomes dry and
comes off in scales. Their houses are described as the most miserable
hovels, consisting of little more than a roof of palm-leaves resting on
four poles, with a kind of platform a foot or two above the ground, where
they sit and sleep. They are all free, and slavery is wholly unknown.
Mr. T. J. Miller, who was formerly resident here, took much pains to
gather all the information possible in regard to them. He states that
they have divided the island into _Fennas_ or tribes, each of which has a
chief. Instead of living together in villages, like the Malays, they are
scattered over their whole territory. Several of these chiefs continue
to acknowledge one of the Mohammedan rajahs, or, as they are named by
the Dutch, “regents,” in the village of Kayéli, as their superior.
Formerly, each was obliged to send one young girl to its regent for a
bride every year, but the Dutch have long since relieved them from such
an unwelcome exaction. In former times also they were compelled to pay
their regent a certain part of their rice and sago, and provide men to
row his prau or to carry his chair, if he proceeded by land, but they
have been freed from this onerous service, and the Malays who live in
the village with the rajah are obliged to perform such offices for him.
In regard to marriage, each man buys his wife, her price, according to
their laws, depending on the rank of her father, as in Ceram, but a
man is not, however, required to cut off a human head before he can be
allowed to marry, as is the custom in that island. Instead, therefore,
of being fierce head-hunters, as the Alfura of Ceram, they are mild and
inoffensive. They believe, according to Mr. Miller, in one Supreme Being,
who made every thing, and is the source of all good and all evil. They
believe in evil spirits. Prayer leads to prosperity; the negligence of
this duty to adversity. Through the love that this Supreme Being had for
man, whom He had created, He sent him a teacher, Nabiata, who lived among
the mountains. He gave the will of his Master in seven commandments,
namely: 1. Thou shalt not kill nor wound. 2. Thou shalt not steal. 3.
Thou shalt not commit adultery. 4. Thou shalt not set thyself against
thy _fenna_. 5. A man shall not set himself up against the chief of his
tribe. 6. The chief shall not set himself up against him that is over
his or other tribes. 7. The chief over more than one tribe shall not set
himself up against him who is placed over all the tribes. Nabiata also
taught that, though the body perishes, the soul shall still continue to
exist. They who have kept the foregoing commandments—for all the acts
of men are recorded by this Supreme Being—shall dwell far above the
clouds near the Omniscient One. They who have done wickedly shall never
rise to the abode of the happy nor remain on earth, but continually, in
solitude and sorrow, wander about on the clouds, longing in vain to join
their brothers who are above or beneath them. Nabiata also instituted
circumcision, which was performed on both sexes when they attained the
age of eight or ten years. From the introduction of this rite we may
infer that this Nabiata was a Mohammedan teacher, probably an Arab, who
had found his way to this region on a Javanese or Malay prau, that had
come to purchase cloves. Finally, according to their legend, Nabiata made
men of birth his disciples and teachers, and ascended to the abode of the
good from whence he came.
One day, while at Kayéli, I received a most polite invitation to attend
a feast at one of the rajah’s houses. The occasion was the shaving of
a young child’s head. An Arab priest began the rite by repeating a
prayer in a monotonous nasal chant, five others joining in from time
to time by way of a chorus. After the long prayer was ended, a servant
brought in the child, and another servant followed carrying a large
plate partly filled with water, in which were two parts of the blossom
of a cocoa-nut-palm, a razor, and a pair of shears. The child was first
carried to the chief priest, who dipped his fingers in the water, placed
them on the child’s head, and then cut off a lock of hair with the large
shears. The lock of hair was then carefully thrown into the water along
with a guilder. We all did the same. Tea and small cakes made of rice
were then served, and “the feast” was ended. The child was one year old;
when it becomes eight or nine it will have to submit to that abominable
custom prevailing among both sexes of all ranks of Mohammedans, filing
the teeth. This, I was informed, was done with a flat stone, or a
fragment of slate, and sometimes even with a piece of bamboo. The object
is to make the teeth short, and the front ones concave on the outer side,
so as to hold the black dye. The Christians never file theirs, and the
Mohammedans always ridicule the teeth of such natives by calling them
“dogs’ teeth,” because they are “so white and so long.”
At another time I received an invitation to attend a wedding-feast,
but, when I reached the house, it proved to be a feast that the married
couple give to their friends a few days after the wedding. As on all
such festive occasions, the house and veranda were brilliantly lighted,
and on either side from the house out to the street were a number of
posts made of the large soft trunks of bananas. On their tops large
lumps of gum were burned. Between them were arches made of young leaves
of the cocoa-nut palm, arranged as I had previously seen in Nusalaut.
The bride (who, of course, is to be spoken of first), to our surprise,
did not prove to be a young and blooming lass, but already in middle
life, yet a suitable helpmeet at least for the bridegroom, who was an
Arab, and had married this, his second wife, since he came to Buru, only
four months ago. The former wife he had sent back to her parents, much
against her wishes. When a wife desires to leave her husband, she cannot
do so without his consent, which the husband generally grants, choosing
the less of two evils, and, moreover, it is regarded as very ungallant
to retain an unwilling mate; but, while travelling in Sumatra, I saw
one husband who would not allow his wife another choice, but his was a
very peculiar case. His father was a Chinaman, and therefore, as the
descendants of the Chinese do, he had shaved his head and wore a cue, and
was a Chinaman also; but, becoming desperately enamoured of a Mohammedan
lass, he concluded to yield to her unusual demand, that he too must
become a Mohammedan before he could be accepted. She soon repented of
her proposal, but he replied that he had suffered so much for her sake,
he would not release her from her vows—such are the unlimited privileges
granted the husband by the laws of the false Prophet.
While at Amboina I was surprised one day, just before dinner, to see a
strange servant appear with a large platter containing fifteen or twenty
kinds of fishes, fruit, and the various inimitable mixtures made by the
Chinese, in whose quarter of the city we were residing. The gentleman
with whom I was living, however, explained the mystery. There was to be
a wedding in a house near by, and the father of the bride was one of his
hired men, and those nice preparations were intended as a present, that
is, in form, it being expected that only two or three of them would be
taken—and that was quite all a European palate would desire. This was
repeated for three or four days. Meantime the father of the bride had
hired a house where other friends were received and feasted, and the
father of the bridegroom also received and entertained his friends in
like manner. At length came an invitation to attend the _finale_ of this
long ceremonial. We first walked to the house of the bridegroom. Large
Chinese lanterns brilliantly lighted the veranda and the adjoining narrow
lane, which was thronged with men and boys. We then visited the house
where the bride was waiting to receive her lord. The piazza opened into
a large room, and on one side of it was a smaller one, closed by a red
curtain instead of a door. No one but the lady-guests were allowed to
enter where the bride was sitting. The larger room contained many small
tables loaded with delicacies, mostly of Chinese manufacture. Not to be
unsocial, we sat down and sipped a cup of boiling tea, and observed the
assembled guests while all were waiting for the coming of the bridegroom
as in good Scripture times. In the opposite corner was a table surrounded
with Malay ladies. It also was covered with sweetmeats, but room was
soon made for the more necessary siri-box; a liberal quid of lime,
pepper-leaves, and betel-nut was taken by each one, and, to complete the
disgusting sight, an urn-shaped spittoon, an inseparable companion of
the siri-box, was produced, and handed round from one to another as the
occasion demanded. A shrill piping was now heard down the street, and
every one rushed out on the veranda to see the approaching procession.
First came boys with wax-candles, and near them others carrying the
presents that the bride and the bridegroom had received. Then came
the bridegroom himself, supported by his friends, and surrounded by
candles arranged at different heights on rude triangular frames. He
was dressed in a Malay suit of light red, and wore a gilded chain. I
had been told that, when he should attempt to enter the room where the
bride sat waiting, the women would gather and persistently dispute his
right to proceed, and here, in the distant East, I thought to myself, I
shall see an illustration of the maxim, “None but the brave deserve the
fair.” On the contrary, so far from manifesting any disposition to oppose
him and prolong the ceremony, they only made way for him to enter the
bridal-chamber as quickly as possible. As my friend and I were the only
white persons present, we were allowed the especial favor of entering
also. On one side of the room was a small table covered with a red cloth,
and on this were two gigantic red wax-candles. Behind the table sat the
bride, arrayed in a scarlet dress, with a white opaque veil concealing
her face, and fastened to her hair. As the bridegroom approached, she
slowly rose. Placing his hands with the palms together, he bowed three
times in the same manner as the Chinese address the images in their
temples. She returned the salutation by also bowing three times, but
without raising her hands. Now came the exciting moment. She remained
standing while he stepped forward and commenced pulling out the pins that
held fast the opaque veil which hid her beauty from his longing eyes. Not
being very skilful in this operation, a couple of the maids-in-waiting
assisted him, and, by degrees, was revealed a face that was at least one
shade darker than most of the ladies near her, and I could but think,
if that really was the first time her husband had ever seen her, he
must feel not a little disappointed. However, his countenance remained
unchanged, whether such a saddening reflection crossed his mind or one of
delightful surprise. He then passed round the table to the side of his
bashful bride, and both sat down together and were stupidly gazed at.
In the opposite end of the room was the bridal-bed. The four posts rose
above the bed nearly to the ceiling, and supported a mosquito-curtain
which was bespangled with many little pieces of tinsel and paper flowers.
Both the bride and bridegroom were Mohammedans, and this marriage was
nominally according to the Mohammedan usage, but it should perhaps be
more properly regarded, like most of the Malay customs at the present
day, as combining parts of the rite in China and Arabia with that which
existed among these nations while they observed the Hindu religion,
or continued to remain in heathenism. The boys usually marry for the
first time when about sixteen, and the girls at the age of thirteen or
fourteen, though I was once shown a child of nine years that was already
a wife, and mothers eleven or twelve years old are occasionally seen.
The great obstacle to marriage in all civilized lands—the difficulty of
supporting a family—is unknown here. Children, instead of being a source
of expense, are a source of income. Until four or five years old, the
boys do not usually wear any clothing. Their food costs very little, and
all the education they receive still less, or nothing at all. The average
number of persons in one family in Java, where it is perhaps as large,
if not larger, than elsewhere, is estimated at only four or four and
a half. The fact that children help support their parents secures for
them such attention that they are never entirely neglected. Polygamy is
allowed here as in other Mohammedan lands, but only the wealthier natives
and the princes are guilty of it. The facility with which marriages are
made, and divorces obtained, is one cause why it is not more general. In
regard to the evil effects of polygamy, and the ideas of this people in
respect to the sacred rite of marriage, Sir Stamford Raffles, who was
Governor-General of Java, most truthfully remarks: “Of the causes which
have tended to lower the character of the Asiatics in comparison with
Europeans, none has had a more decided influence than polygamy. To all
those noble and generous feelings, all that delicacy of sentiment, that
romantic and poetical spirit, which virtuous love inspires in the breast
of a European, the Javan is a stranger; and in the communication between
the sexes he seeks only convenience and little more than a gratification
of an appetite. But the evil does not stop here: education is neglected,
and family attachments are weakened. A Javan chief has been known to have
sixty acknowledged children, and it too often happens that in such cases
sons having been neglected in their infancy become dissipated, idle, and
worthless, and spring up like rank grass and overrun the country.”
[Illustration: A MALAY OPIUM SMOKER.]
In the little village of Kayéli there were only three Chinamen, but
one of them was an opium-seller. He was agent for another Chinaman at
Amboina, who had bought the privilege of selling it from the Dutch
Government, who “farm out” or grant this privilege in every district to
the highest bidder. From this article alone, the government obtains in
this way an income of four or five million dollars. Opium, as is well
known, is the inspissated juice obtained from the capsule of the white
poppy, _Papaver somniferum_. Its Malay name is _apyun_, which, coming
from the Arabic _afyun_, shows at once by whom it was introduced into
the archipelago; the same people, as Mr. Crawfurd remarks, who made
them acquainted with ardent spirits, and at the same time gave them a
religion forbidding both. It is imported from India, and the poppy is
not cultivated in any part of the archipelago. Barbosa mentions it in a
list of articles brought from Arabia to Calicut in Malabar, and in his
time its price was about one-third what it is now. The man who sells it
is obliged to keep a daily account of the quantity he disposes of, and
this account is open to the inspection of the government officers at all
times. So large is the sum demanded by the government for this farming
privilege, and so great are the profits obtained by the Chinese, who are
the people that carry on most of this nefarious traffic, that the price
the Malays are obliged to pay for this luxury limits its consumption
very considerably. When imported, it is usually in balls five or six
inches in diameter. It is then soft and of a reddish-brown color, but
becomes blacker and harder the longer it is kept. It is slightly elastic,
and has a waxy lustre, a strong, unpleasant odor, and to the taste is
bitter, nauseous, and persistent. To prepare it for smoking, it is boiled
down to the consistency of thick tar. While it is boiling, tobacco and
siri are sometimes added. A lamp is then lighted, and a small quantity
is taken up on a piece of wire as large as a knitting-needle. This is
held in the flame of the lamp until it melts and swells up as a piece
of spruce-gum would do under similar circumstances. During this process
it is frequently taken out of the flame and rolled between the thumb
and forefinger. It is then placed in a small hole in the large bowl of
the pipe, and the wire being withdrawn, a hole is left for inhaling the
air. The bowl of the pipe is now placed against the lamp and the smoke
inhaled with two or three long breaths, which carry the fumes down deep
into the lungs. By this time the small quantity of opium in the bowl of
the pipe is consumed. It is then filled as before, and this process is
repeated until the eyelids become heavy and an irresistible desire to
sleep possesses the whole body. Its immediate effect is to produce a
passive, dreamy state. This is followed by a loss of appetite, severe
constipation, and kindred ills. When a man has once contracted the habit
of using it, it is impossible to reform. Greater and greater doses are
required to produce the desired lethargic effect. The evil results of
this vice are well shown in the accompanying photograph of a Malay, where
the victim, although only in middle life, has already become so emaciated
that he is little more than a living skeleton. The rude platform of
planks covered with a straw mat, on which he is sitting, is his bed,
while stupified with his favorite drug. A pipe, of the customary form,
is seen in his right hand. Being too poor to own a lamp, he has instead
a small fire of charcoal raised on the top of an urn-shaped vessel of
earthen-ware. By his side are seen vessels for making tea, and by copious
draughts of that stimulant he will try to revive his dead limbs by and
by, when he awakes from his contemplated debauch, and finds his whole
energy gone, and, as it were, his very life on the point of leaving the
body.
My next excursion, after a week in the woods, was with the commandant
of the fort to a high bluff on the eastern side of the entrance of the
bay of Kayéli. The fires which rage here year after year destroy much
of the thick forest, and a tall, coarse grass takes its place. In these
prairies grow many _kayu-puti_, or whitewood-trees, so called from their
bark, which makes them resemble our white birches. Their branches are
very scattering, and bear long, narrow leaves, somewhat like those of
our willow, which are gathered about this time of year, for the sake
of their “oil.” It is obtained in the following manner: the leaves are
plucked off by hand and placed in baskets which are carried to sheds,
where they are emptied into large kettles, that are partly filled with
water, and carefully closed. From the centre of the cover of the kettle
rises a wooden tube, to which is joined another of cloth, that is coiled
up in a barrel containing cold water. A fire being made beneath the
kettle, the volatile “oil” is carried over and condensed in the tube.
About eight thousand bottles of this article are manufactured here every
year. Indeed, it forms almost the only export from this large island.
The price here is about a guilder per bottle. It is sent to Java and
other parts of the archipelago, and is used as a sudorific. The tree,
_Melaleuca cajeputi_, is also found in Amboina, Ceram, Celebes, and
Sumatra, but the best oil comes from this island.
After we had wandered over a number of hills, we came down into a basin,
in the bottom of which was a little lake, where we found a flock of
brown ducks. The borders of the lake, however, were so marshy that I
could get no fair shot at this rare game. In a small lake near by I
had the privilege of seeing a pair of those beautiful birds, the _Anas
rajah_, or “prince duck.” Around the borders of the lake was a broad band
of dead trees. My hunter spied a nice flock of the brown ducks on the
opposite side, and for nearly a mile we carefully crept along through
the sharp-edged grass, until we were just opposite the flock. If we went
down to the margin of the pond they would be completely shielded from
our shot by the trees. I therefore ordered my hunter, whose gun was
loaded with a ball for deer, to lie down, while I sprang upon my feet and
tried the effect of one barrel of my fowling-piece, which, by-the-by,
was loaded with small shot for doves. Shy as they were, we had evidently
taken them by surprise. There was a click, a report, and four out of the
eight remained where they were. The next thing was to get them. We had
no dog nor boat, and I proposed to my hunter, as he was a good swimmer,
that he swim for them, but he only shrugged his shoulders and declared
the whole pool was so full of crocodiles that a man could not get out
where the birds were before he would be devoured. It evidently was just
such a place as those monsters delight to frequent, but I determined to
go after them myself; and as I proceeded to carry out my resolution, my
hunter, ashamed to remain on the banks, joined me, and after an ugly
scramble through the bushes and sticks, and much wallowing in the soft
mud, we got into the water and out to the flock, and as soon as possible
were back again on the bank. The commandant now came up, and I recounted
to him what we had been doing. He was horrified! That a man could go into
that pond and escape the crocodiles for ten minutes he regarded as next
to a miracle. A number of natives, who had frequently visited the place,
assured me that nothing could have induced them to run such a risk of
losing their lives. Our whole party then continued on over the grassy
hills, and came down to Roban, a place of two native huts, and one of
those was empty. Here, I thought to myself, will be another good locality
to find new species, and I determined to return and occupy the vacant
house for a few days.
It was already late in the afternoon before we thought of returning, and
pushed off from the shore in a boat that had come round the cape at the
mouth of the bay to take us home. Soon the wind sprang up ahead, our
little sail was taken in, and our men used their oars; but the sun set
and the moon arose, and yet we were slowly toiling on, and occasionally
our boat grated on the top of a coral head that rose higher than those
around it. At last we passed the cape, and reached the smooth water of
the bay, yet the helmsman kept near the shore, and took us between
two little islands on the east side of the bay, called by the natives
Crocodile Islands. As we passed the low point of one of them, within a
boat’s length from the shore, an enormous crocodile crawled out of the
jungle and clumsily hurried down the narrow bank into the water, as if he
had come out expecting to make a meal of us. The thought of the danger
I had incurred that very day of being devoured by such monsters made me
shudder and seize an oar, but the amphibious beast was already out of my
reach.
Along the eastern side of Kayéli Bay there is an extensive coral reef,
and farther out around the cape is another, a quarter of a mile wide,
that is bare at low tide. Along the outer edges of this I floated the
next day, while on my way back to Roban. The water was still, and as
clear as crystal, and we could see distinctly far down into the deep,
deep sea. Now, as we come near the reef, its outer wall suddenly rises
up, apparently from the unfathomable abyss of the ocean. Among the first
forms we notice are the hemispherical _Meandrinas_, or “brain corals,”
named, because, when the soft polyps are removed, small fissure-like
depressions are found winding to and fro over its surface, making the
raised parts between them closely resemble the convolutions of the
brain. Near by are some sending out many branches, like a thick bush,
and others with only a few, resembling deer-antlers of abnormal growth.
Some, which do not attach themselves to their neighbors, are circular, as
we see them from above. Their under surfaces are horizontal and their
upper sides slightly convex. When the soft parts are removed, a number
of radiating partitions are seen, so that the whole resembles a gigantic
mushroom turned upside down; and this family of polyps is hence called
_Fungidæ_. Scattered among the stone corals are many _Gorgonias_. Some
are much like broad sheets of foliage and similar to those known to us as
“sea-fans,” which generally come from the tropical waters among our West
Indies. Others resemble bundles of rattans; and, when the soft polyps are
taken off, a black horn-like axis stick is left. Others, when taken out
of the sea and dried, look like limbs cut from a small spruce-tree after
it has been dried, and lost hundreds of its small needle-like leaves.
Numbers of sponges are also seen, mostly of a spherical form, with many
ramifying ducts or tubes. But the most accurate description possible
must fail to convey any proper idea of the beauty and richness of these
gardens beneath the sea, because, in reading or hearing a description,
the various forms that are distinctly seen at a single glance have to be
mentioned one after another, and thus they pass along in a series or line
before our mental vision, instead of being grouped into circular areas,
where the charm consists not so much in the wonderful perfection of a
few separate parts, as in the harmonious relations, or, as architects
say, the effect of the whole. The pleasure of viewing coral reefs never
becomes wearisome, because the grouping is always new. No two places are
just alike beneath all the wide sea, and no one can fail to be thrilled
with pleasure, when, after a few strong strokes of the oars, his canoe
is left to glide on by her own momentum, and the coral gardens pass in
review below with a magical effect like a panorama.
At Roban I remained with my men three days, and, as we were nearer the
shore, the mosquitoes did not torment us as badly as previously at our
hut near the mountains. This proved to be a favorite locality of the
_castori rajah_, or “prince parrot,” which I had already seen in Ceram,
and I secured two or three pairs of them here, but I was specially
anxious to get a specimen of the _malayu_, as the Malays strangely name a
bird, the _Megapodius Forsteni_, which is allied to the hen. The common
name for these birds is “mound-builders,” from their peculiar habit of
scratching together great heaps of sand and sticks, which are frequently
twenty or twenty-five feet in diameter, and five feet high. These great
hillocks are their nests, and here they deposit their eggs. There is also
another species here, the _M. Wallacei_, which burrows deeply in the
sand. The natives brought me one specimen, which they caught while she
was crawling up from her hidden nest. I kept her alive for some time,
but, after laying an egg more than one-third as large as her whole body,
she died. Two eggs of the same dimensions were found at the bottom of
the tunnel she had made in the loose sand. This bird usually comes down
from the hills in the early part of the evening to deposit its eggs, and
then its wailing cry is occasionally heard, but it is so extremely shy,
that it is one of the most difficult of all the birds on the island to
procure.
I usually shot the birds, and my hunter always skinned them, noting the
locality of each, its sex, and as nearly as possible the color of its
eyes. The greatest annoyance that troubles the collector of birds in the
tropics is caused by the swarms of small ants that fill every conceivable
place. If a bird is shot and laid down on the ground for half an hour,
it will almost surely be injured so much by these insects that it will
not be worth skinning. There is no certain means of keeping them away
altogether, except by completely isolating a place with water, which
is usually done by putting small basins under each leg of a table, but
before one is aware of it, something is sure to be placed so as to touch
the table, and thus form a bridge for these omnivorous pests to cross
over and continue their work of destruction. As soon as the birds are
brought in they are hung up by a thread or piece of small twine. After
the skins are taken off, they are thoroughly poisoned with arsenic and
camphor, mixed with water to the consistency of cream. Each is then
filled with the cotton from the cotton-wood tree, until it has exactly
the size of the bird. They are then spread in the sun on a bamboo frame,
which is suspended by twines fastened at its corners. After they have
become thoroughly dried, they are kept in a tight tin box with large
pieces of gum-camphor, and even then they must be looked after every
day or two, for they are still liable to be injured by the ants, which
are particularly fond of gnawing at the base of the bill and around
the eyes. During the rainy season it is extremely difficult to dry the
skins properly, there is so little sunshine. No one who has not lived
in the tropics can have any idea what a source of constant vexation
the ants are. Bread, sugar, and every thing eatable, they are sure to
devour, unless it is kept in glass-stoppered bottles; and this is the
greater annoyance, because, when a quantity of provisions is lost, as
is constantly happening, it is so difficult to procure another supply
in every part of the archipelago, except in the immediate vicinity of
the few chief cities. They are sure, in some way or other, to find their
way into every little nook or corner; and though a table be set with the
greatest care, in nine cases out of ten some will be seen running on the
white cloth before dinner is over. The floors of the houses occupied
by Europeans are usually made of large, square pieces of earthen-ware,
and through the cracks that chance to occur in the cement between them
ants are sure to appear. It is this, probably, that has given rise to
the saying, that “the ants will eat through a brick in a single night.”
In all parts of the archipelago it is an established custom either to
whitewash the walls inside and outside, or else paint them white, except
a narrow strip along the floor, which is covered with a black paint
chiefly composed of tar, the only common substance to which these pests
show any aversion. All these troubles are caused by the “black ants,”
but their ravages do not compare with those caused by the “white ants,”
which actually eat up solid wood. The frames of many of the smaller
buildings and out-houses in the East are not mortised, but are fastened
together with pieces of _coir_ rope, and, of course, when they are eaten
off, the whole structure comes to the ground. A large L attached to the
_controleur’s_ house, which we have been using for a dining-room, fell
down from this cause the other day. Afterward, when I came to Macassar, a
fine war-steamer of eight hundred or one thousand tons was pointed out to
me, which the white ants had succeeded in establishing themselves in, and
several gentlemen, who ought to have known, said that she was so badly
eaten by them that she was almost unseaworthy.
On another occasion the commandant and I went to the west end of the bay
to hunt deer. We started early, and at eight o’clock were already at the
mouth of a small stream, which we ascended for a short distance, and a
guide then led us through a strip of woods that lined the banks. Our
party in all consisted of more than twenty, half of whom were soldiers,
armed with rifles; the others came to start up the game. When we passed
out into a level, open prairie, all that had guns were posted about
twenty yards apart, in a line parallel to the woods. The others made
a long circuit round, and finally entered the forest before us. Then
forming into a line, they began to drive toward us, shouting with all
their might, and making a din horrid enough to frighten other animals
less timid than deer. Packs of dogs, that the natives had brought, were
meantime yelping and howling. Soon there was a cracking in the bushes
near me, and at the next instant came a female and her fawn, with high,
flying leaps through the tall grass. I carried a heavy government
rifle, for, unfortunately, my light breech-loading Spencer was not on
the island. I aimed at the foremost and fired; she fell, and I ran,
shouting out to the others that I had one, when, to my surprise, at the
next instant she sprang up again and with one leap disappeared into the
dense jungle. That was the only good shot I had that day. Again and again
we drove, but when we stood in the tall grass, which was as high as our
heads, we could not see our game, and when we perched on stumps, or
climbed into the trees, we could not turn round quickly enough to fire
suddenly in an unexpected quarter with any certain aim. However, when
the horn was sounded for all to assemble, one fine deer and one large
wild hog were brought in. Once a large male came out about five hundred
yards from where I was standing. At the crack of the rifle he only raised
his head high and darted away, almost with the speed of a bullet. His
antlers were very large and branching, and the gracefulness and speed
with which he flew over the plain made the sight one of the finest I
ever enjoyed. The natives are accustomed now, during the dry monsoon, to
burn the prairie-lands, partly in order that new, sweet grass may spring
up, and that when the deer come out of the forests to eat it they will
be fully exposed to the rifles, and partly, as they say, to induce them
to come out in order to lick up the ashes. The usual method, besides
driving, is to lie in wait near a newly-burnt place by night, when there
is moonlight enough to enable the hunters to see every thing within a
rifle-shot plainly. After the deer is secured its flesh is cut up into
thin slices and smoked, and now, in many places on the hills around the
bay of Kayéli, columns of smoke are seen rising every day, where the
natives are busy changing venison into _dinding_, the only kind of meat
they have except that of wild boars, which are very abundant on this
island, though seldom taken. They are accustomed to come out into the
prairie-lands in great droves, and frequently an area of a quarter of an
acre is so completely rooted up by them that it looks as if it had been
ploughed. They even come by night to the gardens, or cultivated places,
at a little distance from the village, and in a short time destroy almost
every thing growing in them. One time, seeing a rare bird perched high
on the top of a lone tree that stood in the tall grass, I cautiously
approached within range and fired, when suddenly there was a rattling of
hoofs on the dry ground, caused by the stampede of a large herd within
pistol-shot of where we were, but entirely hidden from our view by the
thick grass. The natives are usually afraid of them, and the one who was
crawling along behind me to pick up the bird fled at the top of his speed
when he heard the thundering tread of more than a hundred hoofs, while
I stood wondering what sort of beasts had so suddenly sprung out of the
earth, and half querying whether my shot, as they fell on the ground,
had not been changed into quadrupeds in the same miraculous way that the
dragon teeth, sown by Cadmus, were transformed into men. The hog-deer, or
_babirusa_, is also found among these mountains. While I was at Kayéli a
young one was caught by some of the natives. During this day’s hunt I
came to a wide field of recently elevated coral, about one hundred feet
above the sea. The natives, who were surprised that I should stop to look
at such common rocks, asserted that the same kind of _batu puti_, “white
stone,” was found among the hills, and I have no doubt that recent coral
reefs will be found in the mountainous parts of all the adjacent islands
as high up as Governor Arriens has already traced them on Amboina.
While these days were passing by, we all wondered what the authorities
were doing to put down the great insurrection in Ceram. All the boats
that came brought us only the vaguest tidings, sometimes of entire
success, and sometimes of entire failure. We had good cause to be
solicitous, for at two or three posts on that island there were only
about a dozen Dutch soldiers, and if any numbers of the head-hunting
Alfuras made an attack in concert, all would inevitably be butchered.
While we were in this state of suspense, six large praus were seen coming
in round one of the capes and entering our bay. As the foremost hove to
and waited for the others, that all might reach the anchorage together,
they appeared to be coming with some evil design, and immediately there
was no little bustle in our settlement of nine Europeans, four of whom
were ladies. The commandant summoned all his troops into the fort,
sergeants were posted in the four corners by the four cannon, the men
once more put through the routine of loading, so that if anybody was
killed by the discharge of their pieces, which, by the by, were only
six-pounders, it might be some one outside of the fort. In short,
every thing was made ready to do battle. Meantime the six praus came to
anchor off the beach. One of them had the required pass from the Dutch
authorities at Ceram, allowing his boat to come to Kayéli, but the
others had no such papers, and, according to their own story, had become
frightened at the great guns in Ceram, and had also deserted their homes.
This seemed to me so probable that I went down on the beach, and, if the
authorities had allowed it, I would have taken half a dozen natives in a
canoe and boarded every one of the praus myself, and found out what they
contained. I was importuned to come back from the shore, but as I had
been in battle myself, I did not purpose to get frightened and hide in
the fort until I could see some cause for it. After a long consultation,
it was decided that I should not be permitted to inspect the praus, and a
number of Malays were sent off to carefully examine each of the dangerous
vessels. This was done, and the report brought back that there were only
three or four natives in each, and that as to weapons, not one of them
had even an old flint-lock. Thus ended the alarm, and once more the usual
dull routine set in, but this time to be broken by a circumstance as
romantic as it was peculiar.
In our little community of nine persons there was a young officer. He
was affable, energetic, and withal a good military man for one of his
years, but, unfortunately, his mind had been fed on novels until this
world appeared to him little more than half real. He was engaged to a
young lady, who lived also in our little village. Besides his romantic
notions, another of his faults was that he was exceedingly irritable,
so much so, that he and the lady’s father fell into a serious dispute,
in which he became so enraged that he ordered his servant to saddle his
horse forthwith, while he pulled on his long-spurred riding-boots, and
stuck a large Colt’s revolver (navy size) into his belt. He now declared
his intention to put an end to all his ills with his own hand, and,
disregarding the screams of his affianced, and the prayers and entreaties
of all, he sprang into the saddle, and, dashing by the house where I was
living, disappeared up the road into the forest. The gentleman with whom
I was residing saw him as he passed, and at once surmised his intent, but
I assured my host that it took a brave man to commit suicide, and in due
time we should certainly see our friend safely return. The sequel proved
the correctness of my judgment, for in a couple of hours he came back,
his horse reeking with perspiration, and he himself as crestfallen as
Don Quixote after his most heart-breaking misfortunes. The only one who
suffered from this event was the young lady, who had so much confidence
in her gallant friend as to foolishly believe he would carry out his
desperate resolve to the bitter end.
Instead of remaining only a few days as I had planned, I had now lived
more than three months in exile here at Buru, when one morning it was
announced that the governor’s yacht, the Telegraph, had arrived, to my
great delight, for I had already engaged a prau to call in for me while
on her way from Amboina to Ternate. The Telegraph came from Ceram to
afford me an opportunity of going to Ternate, the very place I was
anxious to reach, and at the same time to leave an order for _sapis_,
which she would take to Ceram on her return. The sapi or Madura cattle
have been introduced into all these islands by the government to be used
as food for the soldiers, but only in cases of emergency. I immediately
prepared to continue my travels to other islands, and that day, September
6th, we steamed out of Kayéli Bay. For two months I had wandered over
hills and mountains, penetrating the densest jungles, and picking my
way through bogs filled with thorny vines. Again and again the natives
entertained me with descriptions of the great pythons with which the
whole island abounds, but whenever I saw a bird that I wanted, I always
followed it as long as I could see it. The result was, that I had
collected eighty-one species,[42] which were represented by over four
hundred specimens, nine-tenths of which I had shot myself.
This bay is a good harbor for our whalers, and, before the war, several
came here every year. It is a free port, and there is a safe anchorage,
plenty of good water and wood, and vegetables can be obtained at cheap
rates.
For the last time I looked back on the mountains rising behind in the
interior of the village. Many and many an hour, as the sun was setting,
I used to stand by the shore of the bay where a large cannon was planted
erect in the sand, and, leaning against its dumb, rusty mouth, watch
the changing of beautiful colors in the clouds that rested on the high
peaks in the south, while the day was fading into twilight, and the
twilight into a pure, starlight night. Near this spot the sand-pipers
came and tripped to and fro on the beach when the tide was full, and many
long-winged night-hawks swooped back and forth, feasting on multitudes of
insects that came out as evening approached. Far back of those mountains,
near the centre of the island, there is a lake, and on its shores,
according to the ancient belief of the natives, grows a plant which
possesses the wondrous power of making every one who holds it in his hand
_young again_, even when his locks have grown white with years, and his
hand is already palsied with old age. This must be the fountain of youth,
which, according to Mohammedan tradition, is situated in some dark region
in the distant East, and which Moore in his “Lalla Rookh” refers to as—
“—— youth’s radiant fountain,
Springing in some desolate mountain.”
CHAPTER IX.
TERNATE, TIDORE, AND GILOLO.
As we steamed out of the bay of Kayéli a heavy rain came on, for the
rainy season, which had been prevailing on the south side of Buru, was
now beginning on the north side.
The same alternation of seasons is seen in Ceram. When I was on the south
side of that island, there was one continuous rain; but when I came soon
after to Wahai on the north coast, the grass was dry, and in many places
completely parched. The cause of this interchange of seasons is, that
the clouds which come up from the southeast are heavily charged with
moisture, and when they strike against the high mountain-chain which
extends from the eastern to the western end of that island, the larger
part of their moisture is condensed and falls in heavy torrents, so that
when they pass over the water-shed they pour out few or no showers.[43]
When the wind changes and comes from the northeast, the north sides of
Ceram and Buru are deluged, while it is dry weather on their southern
coasts.
When we were three miles from the northern end of Buru, we struck into a
series of tide-rips, exactly like those seen in the middle of the South
Atlantic Ocean, hundreds and hundreds of miles from any shore. Night
now came on, and it was so dark and thick that we could not see fifty
yards in any direction. It is especially at such a time, when there is
no moon, no stars, no light in the whole heavens, except the lightning
which fitfully darts and flashes anywhere and everywhere over the sky,
that one can feel the inestimable value of the mariner’s compass. That
night we had much rough sea, and I was thankful that I was on a good
steamer instead of the old prau on which I had been expecting to make
this voyage. In the afternoon of the next day we passed the islands of
Bachian and Tawali, which are heaved up into ridges about a thousand feet
in height, and are separated by a long, narrow strait, abounding in the
grandest scenery. On Bachian the clove-tree grows wild. The northern part
of the island is of sedimentary origin of various ages, and there some
coal and copper have been found, and gold has been washed since 1774.
The southern part of the island is chiefly of volcanic origin. North of
Bachian lies a small group of islands, and north of these Makian, an old
volcano. In 1646 it underwent a fearful eruption, and all the villages
on its flanks were destroyed. They were said to contain a population of
some seven thousand. At that time the whole mountain was so completely
split in two in a northeast and southwest direction, that when viewed
from either of those points two peaks were seen. After this destruction
it was again settled, and in 1855 its population numbered six thousand.
In 1862 it again burst forth, destroying nearly every one on the whole
island. So great a quantity of ashes was thrown out, that at Ternate,
about forty miles distant, they covered the ground to the depth of from
three to four inches, and nearly all the vegetation, except the large
trees, was destroyed. A similar devastation caused the severest suffering
within all that radius. But this eruption, fearful as it was, could not
be compared to that of Mount Tomboro, already described.
North of Makian is Motir, a deep cone of trachytic lava, about one
thousand feet in height. During the next night we passed between the
high, sharp peak of Tidore on the right and that of Ternate on the left,
and, entering a large, well-sheltered bay, anchored off the village,
situated on the eastern declivity of the latter mountain. This morning
as the sun rose the scene was both charming and imposing—imposing,
while we looked upward to the lofty summit of this old volcano and
watched the clouds of white gas rising in a perpendicular column high
into the sky, until they came up to a level where the air was moving,
and at once spread out into a broad, horizontal band, while the sun
was pouring down a perfect flood of bright light over the high crest
of the ancient peak and the city on its flanks; charming as we looked
below the level water-line on the shore, and beheld the whole grand
sight above, perfectly mirrored beneath in the quiet sea. This was the
first mountain, whose flanks are cultivated, that I had seen since
leaving Java. Many small ridges extend from its crest part way down its
sides, and then spread out into little plateau-like areas; and there
the natives have cleared away the luxuriant shrubbery and formed their
gardens, and from them were rising small columns of smoke as if from
sacrificial altars. The whole island is merely a high volcano, whose base
is beneath the ocean. Its circumference at the shore line is about six
miles, and its height five thousand four hundred feet. From Valentyn,
Reinwardt, Bleeker, and Junghuhn, we learn that severe and destructive
eruptions took place in 1608, 1635, and 1653. In 1673 another occurred,
and a considerable quantity of ashes was carried even to Amboina. Then,
for one hundred and sixty-five years, only small clouds of gas rose
from the summit—not even hot stones were thrown out, and the mountain
seemed to have undergone its last labor, when, on the 26th of February,
1838, another but not a severe eruption took place. This, however, came
suddenly—so suddenly that, of a party of six natives who chanced to be
on the summit collecting sulphur, four who had gone down into the crater
did not have time to escape, and the two who remained on its edge only
saved themselves by hastening down the mountain; and even they were badly
burned and lacerated by the showers of hot stones. On the 25th of March,
of the next year, a more violent eruption occurred. A heavy thundering
roared in the earth, thick clouds of ashes enveloped the whole island,
and streams of glowing lava flowed down the mountain. Again, the next
year, on the 2d of February, at nine o’clock in the forenoon, a third
eruption, yet more severe, began. Heavier thundering was heard, smoke and
ashes poured out, and hot stones rose from the crater, and fell like hail
on the sides of the volcano, setting fire to the dense wood which had
completely spread over it during its long rest, and causing it to assume
the appearance by night of a mountain of flame. At the same time much
lava poured out over the crater on the north side, and flowed down to the
sea between Fort Toluko and Batu Angus, “the Hot Stone.” This destruction
continued for twenty-four hours, and at four o’clock the next day all was
still. During the next ten days clouds of black smoke continued to pour
out, but all trusted that the worst had passed, when, on the 14th, at
half-past twelve or almost exactly at midnight, a “frightful, unearthly
thundering” began again, and the shocks became heavier and more frequent
until half-past three (before it would have been light if the sky had
been clear), when the last house in the whole place had been laid in
ruins. The earth split open with a cracking that could be distinctly
heard above the awful thundering of the mountain. Out of the fissures
jets of hot water rose for a moment, and then the earth closed again,
to open in another place. An educated gentleman, who, from his great
wealth, generosity, and liberality, is justly known as the “Prince of the
Moluccas,” assured me that when two men were about one thousand yards
apart, one would see the other rise until his feet seemed as high as the
head of the observer, then immediately he would sink and the observer
rise until he seemed as much above his fellow as he had been below him
before. The published accounts entirely agree with this statement. For
fifteen hours the solid ground thus rolled like the sea, but the heaviest
wave did not occur till ten o’clock on the 15th of February. Fort Orange,
which had withstood all the shocks of two hundred and thirty years, was
partly thrown down, and wholly buried under a mass of pumice-stone and
the _débris_ of the forests above it. The people, as soon as this last
day of destruction commenced, betook themselves to their boats, for,
while the land was heaving like a troubled ocean, the sea continued
quiet; no great wave came in to complete the work of destruction on the
shore. It seemed, indeed, as if the laws that govern these two great
elements had been suddenly exchanged, and the fixed land had become the
mobile sea. The whole loss caused by this devastating phenomenon was
estimated at four hundred thousand Mexican dollars; and yet, after all
this experience, so great was the attachment of both foreigners and
natives to this particular spot, that they would not select some one
less dangerous on the neighboring shores, but all returned and once more
began to build their houses for another earthquake to lay in the dust,
proving that the common remark in regard to them is literally true, that
“they are less afraid of fire than the Hollanders are of water.” The
present city, however, judging by the area of the ruins, is not more
than two-thirds the size of the former one. Its total population is
about 9,000. Of these, 100 are Europeans, 300 mestizoes, 200 Arabs, 400
Chinese, and the others natives of this and the adjoining islands. It is
divided into two parts, the southern or European quarter, known by the
peculiar name Malayu, and north of this the Chinese and Arab quarter.
Near the latter is Fort Orange, which was built in 1607, as early as
the settlement of Jamestown. In 1824 this fort was pronounced by the
governor-general the best in all the Netherlands India. Beyond the fort
is “the palace” of the Sultan of Ternate, and north of this is the native
village. The palace is a small residence, built in the European style,
and stands on a terrace, facing a wide, beautiful lawn, that descends to
the sea. Near it is a flag-staff, which leans over as if soon to fall,
a fit emblem of the decaying power of its owner, whose ancestors were
once so mighty as to make the Dutch regard them with fear as well as with
respect.
According to Valentyn, who gathered his information from the native
records, there were formerly in Gilolo a number of independent states,
each with its “kolano” or chief. In about A. D. 1250, two hundred and
seventy years before any European sailed in these seas, a great migration
took place to the neighboring islands, and a village named Tabona was
formed on the top of this mountain, which has been an active volcano
ever since it was known to Europeans. In A. D. 1322, many Javanese and
Arabs came here to buy cloves. This is the first historical record we
have of the spice-trade. The inhabitants of Obi and Bachian now united
to counteract the growing power of the prince of Ternate, but this union
effected little, for, in A. D. 1350, Molomateya, who was then reigning
at Ternate, learned from the Arabs how to build vessels, and, having
prepared a fleet, conquered the Sula Islands. The Arabs and Javanese
meantime made great exertions to convert these people to Mohammedanism,
and in A. D. 1460,[44] a little more than two centuries after it had been
introduced into Java, Mahum, the prince of Ternate, became a Mohammedan
“through the influence of the Javanese.” About this time Malays and
Chinese came from Banda to purchase cloves, which they sold to Indian
traders at Malacca. In 1512 Francisco Serano, whose vessel struck on
the Turtle Islands, when returning with D’Abreu from Amboina and Banda,
induced the natives to assist him in getting his ship afloat while the
rest of the fleet were returning to Malacca, and to pilot him to Ternate;
and thus he was the first European who reached the great centre of the
clove-trade. In 1521 the fleet of Magellan anchored off Tidore, an island
separated from Ternate by only a narrow strait.
Ferdinand Magellan, who organized this fleet, was a Portuguese nobleman.
He sailed, however, under the patronage of Charles V. of Spain. On
the 20th of September, 1519, he left the port of St. Lucas with “five
small ships of from sixty to one hundred and thirty tons,” his object
being to find a _western_ passage to the Indies, particularly the Spice
Islands. Coasting southward along the shores of Brazil, he found the
strait which still continues to bear his name. This he passed through
with three ships, one having been wrecked, and one having turned back.
For one hundred and sixteen days he continued sailing in a northwest
direction, over (as it seemed to them) an endless ocean. Their food
became exhausted, but they yet kept on the same course until at last
their eyes were blessed with the sight of land. Pigafetta, a member of
this expedition, thus pictures their sufferings: “On Wednesday, the 28th
day of November, 1520, we issued from the strait, engulfing ourselves
in the ocean, in which, without comfort or consolation of any kind, we
sailed for three months and twenty days. We ate biscuit which was biscuit
no longer, but a wormy powder, for the worms had eaten the substance,
what remained being fetid with the urine of rats and mice. The dearth was
such that we were compelled to eat the leathers with which the yards of
the ships were protected from the friction of the ropes. This leather,
too, having been long exposed to the sun, rain, and wind, had become so
hard that it was necessary to soften it by immersion in the sea for four
or five days, after which it was broiled on the embers and eaten. We had
to sustain ourselves by eating sawdust, and a rat was in such request
that one was sold for half a ducat.”
The first islands Magellan saw were those he named the Ladrones or
“Islands of Thieves.”[45] From those he came to the Philippines, and on
one of these (Mactan, near Zebu) he was murdered by the natives, as
was also Barbosa, a gentleman of Lisbon, who had previously visited and
described India, and from whose writings we have frequently had occasion
to quote. From Zebu, Magellan’s companions sailed to the northern part of
Borneo and Tidore. Thence they continued southward, touching at Bachian
and Timur, in 1522, and finally arrived safely back in Spain, having
completed the first circumnavigation of our globe. This great voyage
was accomplished nearly a century before the Pilgrims landed on our
New-England shores. Soon after the Portuguese had established themselves
at Ternate, they began to teach the natives their Catholic creed, and in
1535 the native king, who had accepted that religion and been christened
at Goa, returned to Ternate and began his reign. Other native princes
then proposed to the Portuguese to become Catholics, if they would
take them under their protection, and thus Catholicism began to spread
rapidly, but the same year all the native converts were destroyed by
Mohammedans, headed by Cantalino, who was styled “the Moluccan Vesper.”
In 1546, Francis Xavier,[46] a Catholic priest, visited Ternate. He
afterward went back to Malacca and proceeded to China and Japan, and
returning from the latter country died on an island off Macao, near
Canton. The Dutch first came to Ternate under Admiral Houtman, in 1578.
In 1605, under Stephen van der Hagen, they stormed and took Ternate, and
thus drove the Portuguese out of the Moluccas, and the island, since
that date, has continued in their hands, the English not being able to
capture it during the early part of this century, when they took Amboina
and the neighboring islands. They now continued their strenuous attempts
to dislodge the Spaniards from their stronghold on Tidore, until the
besieged, finding themselves constantly in danger, deserted the whole
Moluccas to the Dutch in 1664.
As the Portuguese and Spaniards had been anxious to convert the
natives to Catholicism, so the Dutch were anxious to convert them to
Protestantism, but they did not, however, labor in the same manner as
the former. Pigafetta informs us that in eight days “all the inhabitants
of this island” (Zebu, one of the Philippines) “were baptized, and also
some of the other neighboring islands. In one of the latter we set fire
to a village” (because the inhabitants would neither obey the king of
Zebu nor Magellan). “Here we planted a wooden cross, as the people were
Gentiles. Had they been Moors” (Arabs), “we should have erected a stone
column, in token of their hardness of heart, for the Moors were more
difficult of conversion than the Gentiles.” In three days after this
conversion, these very natives murdered Magellan, and in twelve days more
they waylaid and butchered twenty-four of his companions. The natives
were first instructed in Protestant doctrines by teachers in 1621, and
in 1623 the first Protestant clergyman came into the Moluccas. This
faith has made little progress, however, and, except the inhabitants of
Haruku, Saparua, and Nusalaut, and small communities at the chief places
of Amboina and Ternate, the whole native population east of Celebes is
either Mohammedan or heathen.
The islands on which the clove-tree grew spontaneously, and the ones
originally known as “the Moluccas,” are Ternate, Tidore, Motir, Makian,
and Bachian, which are situated in a row off the west coast of the
southern half of Gilolo. Of this group Tidore and Bachian, only,
belong to the prince of Ternate, and the Dutch East India Company, in
order to make the monopoly they already enjoyed more perfect, offered
this prince a yearly sum of seventeen thousand four hundred guilders,
nearly seven thousand dollars, for the privilege of destroying all
the clove and nutmeg trees they could find in his wide territory; for
besides these five islands and other smaller ones near them, and also
the adjoining coast of Gilolo, where the clove-tree was indigenous, it
had been introduced by the natives themselves into Ceram, Buru, and
Amboina, before the arrival of the Portuguese. This offer the prince
accepted in 1652, perhaps because he could not refuse longer. From that
date his power began to decline, and in 1848 he was unable to make the
people of the little island of Makian acknowledge his sovereignty,
which once extended from north of Gilolo to Buton and Muna south of
Celebes, a distance of six hundred geographical miles. His empire also
included the western coast of Celebes; and the islands that lie between
it and Bachian, Buru, and a large part of Ceram, and one-half the area
of Gilolo, were within its limits. For a long time expeditions were
fitted out every year by the Dutch, to search each island anew, and
destroy all the trees which had sprung up from seed planted by birds.
Another such piece of selfishness it would be difficult to find in all
history. The result of this agreement and this policy has been that,
for a considerable number of years, the income of the government in the
Moluccas and Bandas, taken together, has not been nearly equal to its
expenses in these islands; and it is now evident to all that very much
has been lost by this ungenerous and exclusive mode of trade.
On landing at this village I found a pleasant residence with a good
English lady, the second it had been my good fortune to meet since
I left Java. After living so long among a people speaking another
language, it is a privilege indeed to hear one’s native tongue spoken
without a foreign accent, and to converse with a person whose religion,
education, and views of life accord with one’s own. On these outer
borders of civilization, Americans and Englishmen are—as we ought to be
everywhere—members of the same family.
The same afternoon, as it was clear, I rode with an officer up the
mountain to a summer-house, two thousand four hundred feet above the sea.
From this high position we had a fine view over the wide bay of Dodinga,
formed by the opposite re treating coast of Gilolo. High mountains
are seen to rise in the interior, and several of these are said to be
volcanoes, either active or extinct. In the northern part of the island,
opposite the island of Morti, the Resident informed me that there was a
crater which, according to the accounts given him by the officials who
had visited it, must be nearly as large as the famous one in the Tenger
Mountains on Java. On Morti itself is Mount Tolo, which suffered a severe
eruption in the previous century. Before that time Morti was said to be
well peopled, but now only the natives of the adjoining coast of Gilolo,
who are most notorious pirates, stay there from time to time.
A large number of the natives of Gilolo were then here at Ternate.
Though frequently called “Alfura,” they are strictly of the Malay type,
and have not the dark skin and frizzly hair of the Alfura of Ceram and
Buru, though representatives of that people may exist in other parts
of Gilolo. Of the whole population of Gilolo, which is supposed to be
about twenty-seven thousand, all but five thousand are under the Sultan
of Ternate. During the war in Java, from 1825 to 1830, the sultan sent
a considerable force of his subjects to assist the Dutch, and those who
were then at Ternate had been ordered to come over to hold themselves
in readiness to aid in suppressing the revolt in Ceram, for the Dutch
believe in the motto “cut diamond with diamond.” These natives appear
to be quite as mild as most Malays, but the foreigners here say that
they fought so persistently while in Java, that soon they were styled
“the bloodhounds of Gilolo.” A small number of Papuans are also seen in
the village. They were mostly brought here from Papua by the fleet that
collects the yearly tribute for the Sultan of Tidore. While I was at
Amboina a very unfavorable account of them was given by a native captain
of Macassar, who had been taken prisoner near this place. According
to his report to the government, when he returned, all his crew was
seized and eaten one after another, and the only thing that saved him
from a like fate was that he read parts of the Koran. This led them to
believe him a priest, and finally induced them to allow him to depart
on the next vessel that came to their shores. East of Geelvink Bay two
Dutch expeditions have found that the whole population, men, women, and
children, always go absolutely naked.
On our right, as we looked toward the east from our lofty position,
the steep, conical peak of Tidore was seen rising about six thousand
feet above the sea. It is one of the sharpest peaks in all this part
of the archipelago. As it has no crater either at the summit or on its
sides, there is no vent by which the gases beneath it can find a ready
escape. They must therefore remain confined until they have accumulated
sufficient power to hurl high into the air the whole mass of ashes,
sand, and rock which presses them down. This is exactly what happened at
Makian. Professor Reinwardt, who examined this peak in 1821, declared
that it would be blown up in twenty years, and, strange to say, it was
nineteen years afterward that the terrific eruption of Makian, already
described, occurred. As the islands Ternate, Tidore, Motir, and Makian,
are only cones standing on the same great fissure in the earth’s crust,
Professor Reinwardt’s prediction was fulfilled almost to the very letter.
The village of Tidore is situated on its southern side, and is the
residence of the sultan, whose territory is no less extensive than that
of the Sultan of Ternate. It includes Tidore, Mari, the two eastern
peninsulas of Gilolo, Gebi, Misol, Salwatti, Battanta, and the adjacent
islands, the western and northern shores of the western peninsula of
New Guinea, and the islands in Geelvink Bay. The population of Tidore
and Mari is about seven thousand five hundred. The former cultivate the
flanks of the mountain up to a height of about three thousand feet.
Above this line is a dense wood, but the pointed summit is quite bare.
The income of this sultan consists in his share of the produce obtained
on Gilolo, in the sago, massoi-bark, tortoise-shell, tripang, and
paradise-birds, which are yearly brought from Papua, and the islands
between it and Celebes, and in twelve thousand eight hundred guilders
(over five thousand dollars) paid him by the Dutch Government, in
accordance with the promise made by the East India Company, when they
destroyed the spice-trees in his territory. The extension of the empire
of Tidore eastward was probably effected by Malays, who migrated in that
direction; for it is stated in regard to Misol that the Papuans, who
are now driven back into the interior, occupied the whole island when
it was first visited by Europeans. This tendency to push on toward the
coast is the more interesting, because it is generally supposed that,
ages and ages ago, the ancestors of the present Polynesian race passed
out from this part of the Malay Archipelago into Micronesia, and thence
into the wide area they now occupy. From the northern end of Gilolo, and
the adjacent island of Morti (which is really but a part of the northern
peninsula), the voyage to Lord North’s Island, and thence to the Pelew
group, would not be more difficult to accomplish than the piratical
expeditions which even the Papuans, an inferior race, are known to have
made since the Dutch possessed the Moluccas.
The taxes on paradise-birds[47] and other articles, levied on Papua and
the islands near it, are obtained by a fleet which is sent out each year
from the port of Tidore, and which, according to the official reports of
the Dutch, carries out the sultan’s orders in such a manner that it is
little better than a great marauding expedition.
But while we have been engaged in viewing the scene before us, and
recalling its history, the hours have been gliding by, and we are
admonished to hasten down the mountain by the approaching night. When we
reached the village, I was shown a remarkable case of birth-mark on a
young child, whose father owned the summer-house we had just visited high
up on the mountain. A short time previous to the birth of the child,
the family were living there. One night a heavy earthquake occurred,
and a brilliant cloud was seen rising out of the top of the mountain.
Immediately they began to prepare to hasten down, and the mother, being
greatly frightened, attempted to run before, but fell heavily on her
right arm, bruising it severely in one place. Soon afterward the child
was born, and on its right arm, and exactly in the same relative position
as where the mother had received the injury from her fall, was found a
red spot, or mark, which all agreed had exactly the outline of the bright
cloud seen by them on the mountain-top.
The chief articles of export from this place are those brought from the
islands to the east, namely, tortoise-shell, tripang, paradise-birds,
massoi-bark, and wax. Up to 1837, paradise-birds formed a very important
article of export from Ternate. In 1836 over 10,000 guilders’ worth
were exported, chiefly to China. In 1844 over 10,000 guilders’ worth of
massoi-bark was exported from this small emporium. It comes from the
interior of New Guinea, and is sent to Java, where its aromatic oil is
used by the natives in rheumatic diseases. Until 1844, from 14,000 to
nearly 70,000 guilders’ worth of tortoise-shell was annually exported,
chiefly to China; but since that time it has frequently not exceeded
4,000. The chief imports are rice, salt, and cotton goods. A merchant
who sends a small vessel each year to Misol, and along the northern
coast of Papua, kindly offered me an opportunity to take passage on
her; but as it would be about six months before she would come back to
Surabaya, in Java, I was in doubt whether I ought to go further east,
especially as Mr. Wallace had obtained little at Dorey, the only port
on the north coast, and besides, it has the unfavorable reputation of
being one of the most sickly places in the whole archipelago. The two
missionaries stationed at that place are now here, having been obliged
to return on account of repeated and severe attacks of fever. I was
told that the residents of Dorey are only free from this disease when
they have a running sore on some part of the body. While I was thus
doubting whither to direct my course, the man-of-war stationed to watch
for pirates in the Molucca Passage, between this island and the northern
end of Celebes, came into port. She would return immediately to Kema,
a port on the eastern shore of the northern peninsula of Celebes, and
her commander kindly offered to take me over to the “Minahassa,” as the
Dutch call the northern extremity of that island. I had long heard this
spoken of as decidedly the most charming part of the archipelago, and
probably the most beautiful spot in the world. But a moment was needed,
therefore, to decide whether I would go to the sickly coast of Papua,
or visit that beautiful land, and I accepted the commander’s invitation
with many thanks. I had been on this island four days, and we had had
_four_ earthquakes. Indeed, the mountain seemed preparing for another
grand eruption, and I was not loath to leave its shores. So great is the
danger of its inhabitants being entombed alive by night in the ruins of
their own dwellings, that all the foreigners have a small sleeping-house
in the rear of the one occupied by day. The walls of the larger one are
usually of brick or stone, but those of the sleeping-house are always
made of _gaba-gaba_, the dried midribs of large palm-leaves, which, when
placed on end, will support a considerable weight, and yet are almost as
light as cork. The roof is of _atap_, a thatching of dry palm-leaves, and
the whole structure is therefore so light that no one would be seriously
injured should it fall on its sleeping occupants. Such continual,
torturing solicitude changes this place, fitted, by its fine climate,
luxuriant vegetation, and beautiful scenery, for a paradise, into a
perfect purgatory.
On the morning of the 12th of December we steamed out of the roads for
Kema. Soon we passed near the southeast end of Ternate, and the commander
pointed out to me a small lake only separated from the sea by a narrow
wall, and informed me that when the Portuguese held the island they
attempted to cut a canal through the wall or dike, and use this lake as
a dock—certainly a very feasible plan; but for some reason, probably
because they were so continually at war with their rivals, the Spaniards,
they did not carry it out. This lake is said to be deep enough to float
the largest ships, and is, I believe, nothing more than an old, extinct
crater. On our larboard hand now was Mitarra, a steep volcanic cone as
high as the Gunong Api at Banda, but appearing much smaller from being,
as it were, beneath the lofty peak of Tidore. It also is of volcanic
formation. We now came out into the Molucca Passage, and were steering
west, and I could feel that at least my face was turned homeward, a
thought sufficient to give any one a deep thrill of pleasure who had
wandered so far.
The wind being ahead, and our vessel steaming slowly, we did not expect
to see the opposite shore until the next day, much to my satisfaction,
for it gave me a good opportunity to learn from the officers many
particulars about the pirates in these seas. Piracy has probably
existed among these islands ever since they were first peopled. It
was undoubtedly plunder, and not trade, that stimulated the natives
to attempt the first expedition that was ever made over these waters.
Piracy is described in the earliest Malay romances, and spoken of by
these natives, not as a failing of their ancestors, but as an occasion
for glorying in their brave deeds. Such has also been the case in the
most enlightened parts of the earth, when civilization and Christianity
had made no further progress in those regions than it has here among the
Malays. It has also been prevalent along the northern shores of Europe
and the British Isles. The only reason that it was not a common practice
among our Indians was because they had not made sufficient progress in
the arts to construct large boats, and were obliged to confine their
plundering expeditions to rivers and lakes, and could not sail on the
stormy ocean.
Pirates have been as numerous on the coasts of China for centuries
as they are now. Sometimes they have come to the Philippines and the
northern parts of Borneo, but rarely or never among these islands.
When the Europeans first came to the East, pirates abounded in every
part of the archipelago, particularly in the Straits of Malacca, in the
Sulu archipelago, between Borneo and Mindanao, and especially on the
southern shores of the latter island. The establishment of a large port
at Singapore by the English, and a settlement on Rhio by the Dutch,
have quite scattered them from the former region, but they continue to
infest the Sulu Sea and the southern part of the Philippines. They come
down here in the middle of the western monsoon, that is, in January and
February, and return in the beginning of the eastern monsoon, so as to
have fair wind both ways, and be here during the calms that prevail in
these seas in the changing of the monsoons, when the large number of
oars they use enables them to attack their prey as they please. They
appear to come mostly from the shores of Lanun Bay, on the south coast of
Mindanao. From Dampier we learn that in 1686 they were an inland people.
“The Hilanoones,” he says, “live in the heart of the country” (Mindanao).
“They have little or no commerce by sea, yet they have praus that row
with twelve or fourteen oars apiece. They enjoy the benefit of the
gold-mines, and, with their gold, buy foreign commodities of the Mindanao
people.” They are now the most daring pirates in these seas. Last year
the man-of-war on this station had the good fortune to surprise five
boats, one of them carrying as many as sixty men. At first they attempted
to escape by means of their oars, but her shot and shell soon began to
tear them to pieces. They then pulled in toward the shore and jumped
overboard, but, by this time, they had come near a village, and the
natives at once all turned out with their spears, the only weapons they
had, and scoured the woods for these murderers until, as far as could
be ascertained, not one of them was left alive. They seldom attack a
European vessel, but, when they do and succeed, they take revenge for the
severe punishment their countrymen receive from the Dutch war-ships, and
not one white man is left to tell the tale of capture and massacre. The
vessels that they prey on chiefly are the small schooners commanded by
mestizoes and manned by Malays, which carry on most of the trade between
the Dutch ports in these islands. One of those vessels was taken and
destroyed by these murderers last year while sailing down the coast from
Kema. The whites and mestizoes are always murdered, and the Malay crews
are kept as slaves. While I was at Kema two Malays appeared at the house
of the officer with whom I was residing, and said they were natives of a
small village on the bay of Gorontalo; and that, while they were fishing,
they had been captured by a fleet of pirates, who soon after set out on
their homeward voyage; and, while the fleet was passing Sangir, a small
island between the northern end of Celebes and Mindanao, they succeeded
in escaping by jumping overboard and swimming a long distance to the
shore. They had now reached Kema, on their voyage toward Gorontalo, and
they came to the officer to apply for food, clothing, and some means of
reaching their homes once more. Such cases are specially provided for by
the Dutch Government, and their request was immediately granted. A few
years ago these pirates sent a challenge to the Dutch fleet at Batavia
to come and meet them in the Strait of Macassar, and several officers
assured me that five ships were sent. When they arrived there no pirates
were to be seen, but to this day all believe the challenge was a _bona
fide_ one, and that the only reason that the pirates were not ready to
carry out their part was because more men-of-war appeared than they had
anticipated. A short time after I arrived back at Batavia, a fleet of
these plunderers was destroyed in that very strait. One chief, who was
taken on the opposite coast of Borneo a few years ago, acknowledged that
he had previously commanded two expeditions to the Macassar Strait, and
that, though the Dutch war-ships had destroyed his fleet both times,
he had been able to escape by swimming to the shore. At Kema I saw one
of the five praus that were taken in that vicinity last year. It was
an open boat about fifty feet long, twelve wide, and four deep. There
were places for five oars on each side. At the bow and stern was a kind
of deck or platform, and in the middle of each a small vertical post,
on which was placed a long swivel, throwing a pound-ball. They do not,
however, depend on these small cannon, but always get alongside a vessel
as soon as possible, and then board her at the same moment on all sides
in overpowering numbers. It is almost impossible to catch them unless it
is done by surprise, and this they carefully guard against by means of
spies on the shore. Our captain informed me that several times when he
has suddenly appeared on some part of the adjacent coasts, fires have
been instantly lighted on the tops of the neighboring hills, evidently
as signals to pirates in the immediate vicinity. As soon as they receive
this alarm they hide away in the shallow creeks and bays among the
mangrove-trees, so that a war-vessel might steam past them again and
again without discovering the slightest indication of where they are
concealed. To the Dutch almost exclusively belongs the honor of having
rendered the navigation of these seas so comparatively safe as it now is.
The English have assisted in the western part of the archipelago, but the
Spaniards, from whose territory these marauders now come, have effected
little toward removing this pest from the Philippines, where it is as
rife as it was two hundred years ago.
CHAPTER X.
THE NORTHERN PENINSULA OF CELEBES.
On the morning of the 13th of December Mount Klabat, a conical volcanic
mountain attaining an elevation of six thousand five hundred feet,
appeared on the horizon; and soon after, north of Klabat, was seen Mount
Sudara, “The Sisters,” a twin cone whose highest peak is about four
thousand four hundred feet above the sea. North of this again is Batu
angus, two thousand three hundred feet in height. Its name in Malay means
“the hot rock,” but it is really a large volcano, whose top has been
blown off and a great crater thus formed; and this shows the fearful
fate that awaits each of the other two cones, as soon as the gases pent
up beneath their mighty masses have acquired the necessary power. We now
approached Limbi, a high, uninhabited island with abrupt shores extending
in a northwest and southeast direction, and soon after came to anchor
in the road off Kema, the coast here curving inward so as to form a
small bay. This is the port used now in the western monsoon. During the
eastern monsoon, steamers and ships go round the northern end of Celebes
to Menado, in the Strait of Macassar. Kema is a village of two thousand
inhabitants. Its streets are very broad, and cross each other at right
angles. The houses are well built, and placed on piles twelve or eighteen
inches in diameter and six feet high—a remnant of the old custom of
placing their huts on high posts to avoid attacks of enemies, which was
practised by these people previous to the arrival of Europeans. It is
certainly a good custom, not only because all such unwelcome intruders
as the large snakes, which are very numerous here, are thus avoided, but
also to keep the house dry and cool, by allowing a free circulation of
air beneath. Each house has a small plot of ground, and this is separated
from that of its neighbor by hedges, which also border the streets,
and give the whole village a charming air compared to the irregular,
unsightly appearance of those I had been visiting. Most of the streets
are also lined with shade-trees, and in the gardens, behind the hedges,
are rows of orange-trees, some of their branches bearing flowers, some
green fruit, and some drooping under the abundance of their golden-yellow
loads.
The _controleur_ here kindly received me into his house. He was just
going to Limbi, an island five or six miles north of Kema, to try to take
some living _babirusa_ for the governor-general’s garden at Buitenzorg,
back of Batavia. That was exactly such an excursion as suited my fancy,
and I was very willing to accept his invitation to join him before
I began a journey I had been planning over to Menado, and thence up
into the interior. While we were preparing for our excursion, another
gentleman, Mr. K., decided to join us.
_December 20th._—A bright, clear day, and just suitable for starting on
our hunt. We have a ship’s long-boat and a small prau, both containing
about twenty natives, and a large pack of dogs to start up the game. The
_controleur_ is the captain of our boat, and an old, gray Malay, who
has been a seaman and a whaler for most of his days, is the coxswain
of the other, and pilot for both. For ballast we have a full load of
rice, our two boats carrying only half the whole party, the other
portion—twenty-five natives and half as many dogs—went yesterday, under
the charge of the second native chief of the village, who rejoices in the
euphonious title of _Hukom kadua_, but the Dutch call him the “Second
Head.” From Kema up to the strait, between Limbi and Celebes, we had a
light air off the shore. A thin cloud, like a veil of gauze, gathered
on the heads of the twin-peaks known as “The Sisters,” and fell down in
rich graceful folds over their green shoulders. From the crests of all
these peaks, down to the high-water line on the shore, is one dense,
unbroken forest. There dwells the _sapi utung_ or “wild ox,” probably
not indigenous, but descended from the tame sapi introduced from Java
and Madura. The natives describe them as being exceedingly fierce,
both the cows and the bulls. Here that peculiar antelope, the _Anoa
depressicornis_, H. Smith, abounds. In these same dense, undisturbed
forests the babirusa (_Babirusa alfurus_, Less.) is found in large
numbers; and a species of _Sus_, much like the lean hog that lives in the
forests of our Southern States, is very abundant. As soon as we entered
the strait we found a strong current against us, and landed on the south
side in a small bay to take our lunch. Again we rowed and beat until we
came to the narrowest part of the strait, where high, perpendicular walls
of rock rise on either hand. The tide which sets toward the east, that is
before the wind, now changed, and away we shot between the overhanging
crags with the speed of an arrow. Outside of these narrows the shores
open on both sides, so that almost at once we were exposed to the full
strength of the stormy monsoon. The strong tide running against the wind
rolled up a high, irregular sea; in fact, the ocean seemed to boil. “Have
you any idea that we can land on that exposed shore in the midst of
such a surf?” I asked the _controleur_. “Well, it is getting dreadfully
rough,” was his indefinite reply. The old Malay pilot, who had kept his
boat ahead, now stood up, and seeing the combing waves, into which the
strong current was rapidly driving us, shouted out to the _controleur_,
“_Dra bisa Tuan!_” “It is impossible, sir! It is impossible, sir!”
Instantly we tacked and stood over toward the Celebes side, and, under
the guidance of the old whaler, soon entered a small, well-sheltered bay.
Near its middle part the island of Limbi is very narrow, and across that
place had been stretched a series of strong nets made of rope a quarter
of an inch in diameter, the meshes being about six inches square. Our
plan was to commence driving at the northern end of the island and force
the wild babirusas into this trap; but it was already quite dark, and
the place where the _hukom_ had landed was a long way to windward, and
we therefore concluded to camp here to-night. For a tent we cut poles
from the neighboring bunches of bamboo and covered them with the boat’s
sail and an old tarpaulin. Our friend K., who was extremely careful not
to boast of being a good sailor, became exceedingly frightened while we
were in the midst of the combing waves, and asked me, half a dozen times
during the evening, if the tide would not rise so high as to wash us
off this steep shore before morning, but I tried to quiet his nerves by
assuring him that such a thing could not happen unless the earth should
sink, a very possible thing now that I come to think of it, for that very
beach was composed of black volcanic sand, and we were almost beneath a
cone, which rose on the flanks of _Batu angus_, and had been formed so
recently that even the luxuriant vegetation of these tropics had not yet
had time to gain a footing on its dark sides. In order to get a partial
shelter from the heavy showers we expected before morning, we pitched our
camp beneath the sturdy branches of an old tree. There we slept while the
wind, in heavy gusts, sighed through the dense foliage over our heads,
and at our feet rose the heavy, pulsating roar of the ocean-surf.
_December 21st._—After passing a comfortable night, notwithstanding
the fears of our companion that we should awake before morning, and
find ourselves in the midst of the sea, we again attempted to reach
the northern end of Limbi, but, as soon as we got out of the bay, we
struck into such a heavy sea that our men could not take us to windward,
and were therefore obliged to put back once more. This time, to vary
the scenery, we passed through the narrows, and encamped on a charming
little beach on the island side of the strait, between two high,
precipitous crags. Our first care was, of course, to construct a tent,
a work soon finished by our large crew. At 11 A. M. we all felt a heavy
earthquake-shock, which lasted, apparently, thirty seconds; but these are
frequent phenomena in this part of Celebes. On the 25th of last month,
not four weeks ago, there was a very heavy earthquake over the whole
Minahassa. At Kema we could still see great rents in the ground, three
or four inches wide, which could be traced for several rods. The shock
was so severe that nearly every article of glass or earthen-ware in the
_controleur’s_ house was broken into fragments. Indeed, as I look up
now toward the west, I do not wonder the earth heaves beneath us like a
troubled sea; for there rises the old volcano known in olden times as
Mount Tonkoko. It has a great yawning crater, six hundred feet deep, out
of which are rising thick, white clouds of gas. On the northwest side
a deep ravine cuts through its flanks, and opens out into the crater.
Farther down this same side is the new cone, beneath which we pitched
our camp last night. In 1806 a great eruption began in this old volcano,
and ashes, sand, and pumice-stone were thrown out in great quantities.
At Ayar-madidi the ashes were fine and of a gray color, and covered the
ground with a layer an inch thick. For two days the heavens were darkened
by the great quantity of these light materials floating in the air. So
many stones were ejected, that at a distance of nearly three miles a new
cone was formed, from which a long tongue of land stretched itself into
the sea. This point the natives called _Batu angus_, “the Hot Rock,” and
since that time the whole volcano has been known by that name. Some of
the pumice-stones were said to have been as large as the native huts, but
so changed into a kind of foam by the action of heat, that they readily
floated on the sea.
Soon after sunset I went out to fish in a small canoe with the
_controleur_ and his old pilot. The place we chose was under a high,
perpendicular precipice that rose up out of the dark water like an
artificial wall. Here we remained while the rocks grew higher and higher
and more and more overhanging as the daylight faded, and the approaching
night blended the sharp outlines and increased the magnitude of every
object around us. Near by was a deep ravine, and from its farthermost
recesses rolled out the reverberating, moaning cries of monkeys, who all
night long keep up a piteous calling, each answering his fellow in the
same mournful tones.
Our lines were just about as large as a mackerel-line. The hooks each
native makes for himself, from brass wire, and about a fathom of wire
is attached to each hook before the line is fastened to it, in order
to prevent the fish from severing the cord with their sharp teeth. For
bait, small fish are taken. In fishing at anchor, no leads are used,
but, instead of them, a kind of sling of palm-leaf is fastened to each
hook. This sling contains a small stone, so fixed that it will carry
down the line, but drop out as soon as it touches the bottom. After we
had obtained a good supply of fine fish, we slowly passed along the
high, well-sheltered shore, while the heavy wind sighed through the lofty
branches over our heads. Now a gleam of light comes over the dark water,
just beyond that high bluff; we are near the camp, and in a few moments
stand again on the beach. This day is done, and yet the storm continues,
but we hope we may be more favored to-morrow.
_December 22d._—Last night I soon fell asleep after such vigorous use of
the paddle, though the storm wailed, and my couch was any thing but a bed
of down. At midnight a troubled dream disturbed my brain. An indefinite
horror thrilled along my veins as I fancied for a moment that I was
whirling round such a deep yawning maelstrom as Poe has pictured, and
then literally “a change came o’er the spirit of my dream,” but scarcely
a change for the better, for I was fixed in the midst of a water-spout,
and, in my struggles to escape, awoke and found a great stream of water
pouring down on me from the tarpaulin that formed the roof of our tent. A
heavy shower had come on, and the water was all running into a depression
in the sail over me, in which, of course, there was a hole, so that the
whole formed one big tunnel. Of course, both K. and the _controleur_
enjoyed my discomfiture greatly, but I consoled myself with the thought
that long before daylight they would find themselves in the same plight;
and the next morning, apparently, the thing that was farthest from their
thoughts was to inquire of me in regard to the water-spout.
That portion of the party that had left Kema in advance of us had taken
little rice. The _controleur_, therefore, thought we must make a third
attempt to reach the northern end of the island, notwithstanding K.’s
earnest entreaties to be only taken back to Kema once more. We had not
reached the narrows, however, before we met the hukom with all his men
and dogs. They had found the surf so high that the only way most of
his men had been able to reach their boats, was to run down the steep
rocks and plunge head foremost into the combing waves. We now landed a
few natives to scour the woods, and finally come to the southern end of
the island, while we went round in the boats. In order to make their
way through the dense forest, instead of putting on more clothing as a
protection against the sticks and stones and thorny vines, they stripped
off what little they wore, except a narrow band over the loins. At the
southern end of the island was a small, deep bay, and here we encamped
for the third time. Soon the natives came in, but they had secured only
two wild hogs. I preserved the skull of one, a female, in which the
canine teeth were not as long as those of a male. The hukom declared that
in the babirusa only the males have the long curved teeth, which the
Malays have fancied resemble the antlers of a deer. While waiting for us,
he had been hunting in the vicinity of his camp, and had taken one female
by driving her to the end of a high point. As soon as she saw there was
no chance for her to escape, she leaped down the precipice and was killed
by the fall. Such suicide, he says, is frequently resorted to by that
animal when it finds it can retreat no farther. The wild hogs plunge
into the water to avoid the dogs, and the natives then pursue them in
boats and kill them with spears. As soon as the hunters return to camp,
they cut up the hogs, and smoke the pieces over a smouldering fire. The
dogs now skulk about to seize a piece if possible, and while the natives
are crouching round the fire transforming the lean pork into tough bacon,
you are frequently startled by a sharp yelping as some one finds his
portion disappearing beneath the jaws of one of these hungry brutes, and
a liberal chastisement is at once administered to the thief with the
first stick or club at hand.
_December 23d._—Last night there was another heavy shower. The water
poured down in torrents through our thatching of palm-leaves, for we had
already found that both the boat’s sail and the old tarpaulin afforded
little protection here where the water appears to fall in broad sheets.
Late in the evening the _controleur_ came back from fishing. We could
hear the Malays that were pulling his boat singing in an unusually loud
and merry style, and all gathered on the beach to see what wonderful
monster of the deep they had secured. It proved to be a fish as large
as a horse-mackerel, and weighing fully two hundred pounds, which the
_controleur_ had succeeded in taking with a small line by chancing to
get it alongside the boat and securing it by gaffs. As our stock of
rice was getting low, we decided to return, though I could scarcely
feel satisfied, for I had hoped to get a complete skeleton of the rare
babirusa; however, the _controleur_ more than made up the loss by giving
me half a dozen skulls of the equally rare antelope of this region. We
now crossed over to the Celebes side to a village of four or five huts,
to be sheltered from the heavy rains that have drenched us every night
but one since we left Kema. A few natives have moved here from Kema
because they take many fish off this part of the coast, and there is a
small stream emptying into the sea in the vicinity. They live almost
wholly by fishing, and have cleared only a small place near their houses
for a garden of Indian corn. This evening they have shown me one of the
monsters of these forests. It was an enormous python. Its head has been
taken off, but by careful measurement I find it must have been at least
fifteen feet long. It was killed here the day before yesterday by one of
the natives living in the house where we are now sheltered from the rain.
Missing his dog, he chanced to go to the brook where they get water, and
there he found this monstrous reptile trying to swallow his favorite.
As quietly as possible he stole back to the village and gave the alarm,
and at once all went out and succeeded in cutting off its head before it
could disgorge its prey and attack them. The natives are now taking off
the skin to make rude moccasins, which they frequently use when hunting
in the woods, or more especially when travelling through the tall,
sharp-edged prairie-grass. They all agree that this tough, scaly skin is
much more durable for such a purpose than the best kind of leather. Our
old boatman tells me that he once killed one of those great reptiles on
Limbi, while it was trying to swallow a wild pig. All the natives assert
that this monster sometimes attacks the wild ox, _sapi utung_, though
none of them have ever seen such a dreadful combat. The _controleur_
states to me that when he was stationed at Bachian, near the southern end
of Gilolo, he was once out hunting deer, at a place called Patola, with
a large party of natives. They had succeeded in starting up several, and
he himself saw one of them pass under a tree and at the same instant a
great snake came down from one of the lower limbs and caught the flying
deer with his jaws. Unfolding his tail from the limb, he instantly wound
round his victim, crushing its bones as if they were straw. An alarm was
given, and the natives gathered with their spears and killed the great
reptile on the spot. It was not as large round as this one, but longer.
Many of our men tell me that they once assisted in killing a larger snake
than this at the bathing-place back of Kema. It had seized a hog, whose
squealing soon gave all the inhabitants a warning of what had happened.
They also say (and this remarkable story has since been repeated to me
by several other persons at Kema) that a few years ago a native boy went
out as usual to work in his _ladang_, or garden, some distance from
the village. At night he did not return, and the next morning a native
chanced to pass the garden and saw one of these great monsters trying
to swallow the boy head first, having already crushed the bones of its
victim. He at once returned to the village, and a large party of natives
went out and found the snake and its prey exactly as had been reported,
and immediately killed it with such weapons as they had, and gave the
body of their young friend a decent burial. While they were telling me
these stories I thought of the danger to which I must often have been
unconsciously exposed while wandering mile after mile through the jungles
on Buru, never suspecting that, before I left the archipelago, I myself
should be forced into a dreadful combat with one of these monsters, and
in such a place that one or the other must die on the spot.
The next day we returned to Kema, and I began my journey over the
peninsula to Menado, and thence up to the plateau in the interior.
_December 26th._—At 9 A. M. started on horseback, the only mode of
travelling in the Minahassa, for Menado, the largest village in this
peninsula of Celebes, and the place where the Resident of this region
is located. I went there first, in order to see the Resident and obtain
letters to the officials of the interior. The distance from Kema to
Menado is about twenty miles. The road is made only for carts, but nearly
all the way it is lined with shade-trees, and in several places, for
long distances, they meet overhead so as to form a continuous covered
way, thus affording to those who travel to and fro an admirable shelter
from the hot sunshine and heavy showers. Among these trees were many
crows, _Corvus enka_, not shy as they always are in our country, but so
tame that I frequently rode within ten yards of where they were sitting
without causing them to move. Numbers of a bright-yellow bird, about
as large as our robin, were seen among the branches, and on the ground
another somewhat larger than a blackbird, _Dicrurus_, with a long,
lyre-shaped tail, and a plumage of shining blue-black. These birds
rarely or never hear the report of a gun, and therefore have not learned
to look on man as a universal destroyer, and the tameness they manifest
is perfectly charming. Even the black crow, with its hoarse caw, becomes
an attractive bird when you find he no longer tries to shun your company,
but makes all the overtures he can to be social.
The road runs along the southern flanks of Mount Klabat, and is slowly
ascending from Kema to Ayar-madidi, which is about half-way across, and
then slowly descends again to the western shore of the peninsula. On my
right hand was a deep valley, and fine scenery was occasionally revealed
through the foliage of the trees that covered the way. On the opposite
side of the valley were many small projecting ridges that have been
formed by denuding torrents, and extend down to the level of the stream
that flows out from the lake of Tondano to the ocean at Kema.
By noon I came to the village of Ayar-madidi, “Hot Water,” a name it
receives from a neighboring spring, which in former times was hot. As
it comes out of Mount Klabat, it was probably heated by the volcanic
action that raised that great mountain, which is only an extinct volcano.
As the volcanic action decreased, the heat passed off, until now, the
water is as cool as that of any other stream in the vicinity. Even as
late as the 12th of November, 1848, this water was described as “cooking
hot.” According to Valentyn, in the year 1683, a great eruption took
place in a mountain near Menado, which he calls “Kemaas,” and all the
surrounding country was laid waste. “Kemaas” Dr. Junghuhn has supposed
to be Klabat, but he never visited this region, and the conical summit
of Klabat shows its destruction by heavy eruptions has not yet begun. It
is far more probable that Kemaas was the mountain now known as Sudara,
whose two peaks are only the fragments of the upper part of the cone that
were left standing when the eruptive force blew off the other parts, or
so weakened their foundations, that they have long since fallen, and
the materials of which they were composed have been brought down, and
spread out by the rains over the flanks of the mountain. Natives, who
have been to the top of Klabat, inform me that there is a small lake
on the northwest side. Its basin is, no doubt, that part of the old
crater which has not yet been filled so as to make the whole elevation
a perfect cone. If this, lake was of any considerable size, then, as
occurred on Mount Papandayang, in Java, mud and hot water will certainly
pour down the sides of this mountain, if it is again convulsed by the
mighty forces that are now slumbering beneath it. Ayar-madidi is a large
_kampong_, or _négri_, as the Malays sometimes call their villages. It
is beautifully situated on the southern flanks of Mount Klabat. Its
streets all cross each other at right angles, and are well shaded. So
far as we are aware, the Malays and Javanese had no word for village
previous to the arrival of the Telingas, and it has been conjectured,
from this fact, that they were scattered everywhere over their particular
territories exactly as we have seen is the custom of the aborigines of
Buru, the Alfura, who have been beyond the influence of both Hindus and
Arabs, and even of those natives who have adopted any foreign religion or
custom. Ayar-madidi is a prettier village than Kema. Indeed, the more I
travelled in the Minahassa, the more I admired the kampongs, they are so
incomparably superior to those of every other part of the archipelago in
the regularity of their streets and the beautiful hedges with which they
are lined, and, above all, in the neatness and evidence of thrift that
everywhere appear.
The chief native of this village is also the chief of the district, which
contains several villages. His title in the native language is _Hukom
Biza_, or “Great Chief,” though he prefers to be addressed by the Dutch
title of major. The native official next in rank is the chief of one of
the smaller villages, as at Kema. His title is _Hukom Kadua_. At smaller
villages than Kema the chief is called _Hukom Tua_, or “Old Hukom,” and
beneath him is the _Hukom Kachil_, or Little Hukom. These officers are
nominally elected by the natives, but the choice is generally confined to
the sons of the deceased.
The Majors and Second Heads receive a percentage on all the coffee raised
and delivered to the government. This amounts to about twenty thousand
guilders per year for the seventeen districts in the whole Minahassa.
Besides this income, the Major receives one guilder, and the Second
Head half a guilder from each family in their respective districts and
sub-districts, and the _Hukom Tua_ five days’ labor from each able-bodied
man yearly.
The natives themselves are divided by the Dutch into burgers or “free
citizens,” and inlanders or “natives,” who are obliged to work a certain
number of days in the coffee-gardens belonging to the government. The
total population of the Minahassa in this year (1866), as furnished me
by the Resident from the official documents, is 104,418,[48] and the
marked degree of variation in the population of this country, where the
natives have never been a maritime people, is worth more than a passing
notice, because it shows in some degree the beneficial effect of a stable
government, and how the natives are sometimes swept away by disease. In
1800, according to Valentyn, the population was 24,000, though he gives
the number of able men at only 3,990. In 1825 it was 73,000; in 1842,
93,332; in 1853, 99,588. In 1854 a great mortality appeared, and the
population was diminished to 92,546, no less than 12,821 persons, or
about one-seventh of the population, having died in a single year. In the
district of Amurang the loss was as high as 22½ per cent. The principal
diseases are fevers and dysentery. The population of the Minahassa, as
compared to its area, 14,000 English square miles, is by no means large.
The island of Madura, which is of about the same extent, has more than
five times as large a population; and the residency of Surabaya, also of
about the same extent, contains more than ten times as many people. The
natives directed me to the major’s residence, which I found to be a small
but neat and well-painted house, built in European style. It is situated
in the middle of a large, oblong lawn, that is surrounded with a row of
trees much like our locust-trees, and which are now in full bloom. Near
the gate are a guard-house and long series of stables. Dismounting here,
I walked up to the broad piazza, where the major sat smoking his pipe in
the Dutch style, and discussing in the Dutch language the state of the
weather, the crops, and such things as interested the Dutchmen of those
lands. His manners were polished, and he received me in a most stately
way. His friends were going to Menado, so that I should have companions
the rest of the way. Our dinner was in European style, which seemed the
more remarkable to me because it differed so much from the way I had
been entertained by the rajahs of the Moluccas. In our dining-room was a
fine-series of pictures representing scenes in that most charming tale,
“Paul and Virginia.” We were just at the foot of Mount Klabat, but we
could not see its summit on account of thick rain-clouds that covered
its sides, and now and then rolled down and poured out heavy showers
over the village. As one of these floated away to the east, the sun came
out brightly and changed the falling drops into a remarkably broad and
brilliant rainbow, which seemed suspended from the cloud, and floated
along with it in a most magical manner.
Here I saw for the first time the plant from which “manilla hemp” is
manufactured. It is a species of banana, _Musa textilis_, and grows to
a height of twelve or fifteen feet. It appears to be indigenous, and
can be raised here from the seed. The fibres are taken from the large,
succulent leaves. Though it resembles the banana so closely that at
first most people would mistake it for that plant, its fruit is small,
disagreeable to the taste, and not edible. Several residents have made
strenuous efforts to extend its cultivation, but the result has shown
that the natives can be more profitably employed in raising coffee.
The rain-clouds having cleared away, we all started for Menado. The
horse that had been kindly furnished me by an officer was not fast nor
sure-footed; and, finally, as we were going down a gentle declivity at a
quick canter, he fell headlong. As I am, at least, a much better sailor
than horseman, I went off over his head with a most surprising momentum,
my feet, unfortunately, passing so far into the stirrups that I could not
extricate either of them. This so frightened the horse that he reared and
plunged fearfully, but I had no idea of being dragged off like Mazeppa,
and held on to the reins until my feet were once more clear, when, with
one leap, I was again in the saddle, and ready for further experience
in this mode of travelling. Though I was aware my position was somewhat
dangerous, I could not help feeling amused at the alarm manifested by my
companions. They all seemed delighted to know that I had escaped with
only such inconvenience as one clad in a summer suit of white would
necessarily experience in coming down in such an unceremonious manner
into the midst of a muddy stream. Late in the evening we came to the
Resident’s house, where a cordial welcome awaited me, and I had the
pleasure to find myself once more in the midst of a pleasant family
after so long and lonely an exile.
The next morning I walked through the village. Its total population is
only about 2,500, of which 300 are Europeans and mestizoes; about 600
Chinamen, and 1,200 natives, half of whom are Christians and the other
half Mohammedans. The Resident’s house is surrounded by large grounds,
abounding in the choicest of tropical plants. Not far from it is the
market, a house without walls, the roof resting on pillars of wood and
masonry. This is the universal style of the markets in all parts of the
archipelago. Here various kinds of fruits, gambier, betel-nuts, and
siri are sold by the natives, and salt, cotton fabrics, and cutlery, by
Chinese. The salt used here is not imported from Java, as that used on
the other islands I have visited, but is made by the natives themselves
in the following manner: Littoral-plants are gathered and burned. The
ashes are then placed in a bamboo, which is filled with water. After this
has remained for some time, the water is strained off and evaporated.
The residuum is a dark, impure salt, but the natives prefer it to any
that can be imported. This custom seems to have been introduced lately,
for in 1841 the government sold three hundred and twelve thousand pounds
of imported salt, but in 1853 only two thousand. From the village
of Menado I walked northward parallel to the bay, and, crossing the
little stream Menado, came to the village of the Bantiks, a peculiar
people, numbering about two thousand five hundred, who refuse to become
Mohammedans or Christians, and continue to retain the heathen belief
of their forefathers. Many of them are taller than the other people I
saw in the Minahassa. Their houses are not placed on higher posts than
those of other natives, but they are frequently long, and occupied by
several families—a custom which appears to have been general throughout
the archipelago in ancient times, and is still practised at Dorey, on
the north coast of New Guinea, and again by the people of the Tenger
Mountains in Java, who pride themselves on retaining the customs of their
ancestors. The view has been advanced that the Bantiks are descendants
of Chinamen, who established themselves here when they first came to
the Moluccas to purchase spices. This may have been the case, but their
features, though somewhat different from the other natives, did not
appear to me to be so unlike them as to necessitate such a theory. As
they have kept themselves more away from the influence of all foreigners
than most Malays, they give us a good idea of what the aborigines of this
region were before the arrival of the Portuguese.
About three miles round the northern side bay, we came to Temumpa, where
all the lepers of this residency are obliged to live, banished forever
from all communication with other natives, except such of their friends
as come to see them. The little village consists of twelve small houses,
regularly arranged on either side of a street. They were all neatly
whitewashed, and each has a small plot of ground, where its unfortunate
occupants can busy themselves, and forget their incurable sufferings
and their banishment. A native who lives near by has charge of them,
and my opinion was very decided that they were well cared for by the
government. As we passed from house to house, the officer called them
out, and I gave each a small piece of silver, for which they appeared
very grateful. There are now nineteen here afflicted with this loathsome
malady. The part that appears to be the first attacked is the nose, the
next is the hands, and the last the feet, though in some it only appears
in one of these organs. In one case the nose had wholly disappeared—even
the partition between the nostrils—so that I could look directly into
the chamber over the mouth. At the same time the muscles on one side of
the face were so contracted that the features presented a most sickening
sight. In another case, the nose and all the upper lip were gone, and
even the outer part of the upper jaw, so that the front teeth only stuck
fast on one side, and were completely exposed to view throughout their
entire length. These, however, were the older cases, in which the disease
had made greater progress. Many had lost their fingers and toes. One
little girl had her ankles and feet so swollen that her ankle-bones could
not be seen, and yet I could not but notice how cheerful she appeared.
Two men had the disease in their feet, which had swollen until they
were three times their proper size, and all broken open and fissured in
the most shocking manner. No one who has not seen such lepers as these
can have any idea of what forms human flesh can assume, and life yet
remain in the body. Suffering from such an incurable, loathsome malady
is literally a living death. I found it so sickening, even to look at
them, that I was glad when I came to the last house. Here I was shown a
young child, a few weeks old. No marks of the disease could be detected,
unless it might be that it was very much lighter colored than either of
its parents. The father was one of the worst cases I saw, but the disease
had not appeared in the mother, except as a great swelling in the ankles.
This child must certainly die a leper, and probably will never leave
the village where it was born. For this reason, if for no other, the
government certainly acts wisely in compelling all who have this disease
to come and live here together, where, at all events, it cannot be widely
spread. When it does not appear in a very malignant form in the parents,
it has been known to fail to appear in the children, but to appear again
in the grandchildren. Governor Arriens told me of such a case in Java. It
was evident that the man was a leper, though only a considerable swelling
could be detected on one ear, yet he was able to prove that neither of
his parents was a leper, but, on further inquiry, the governor found that
the man’s grandfather was a leper. This disease is regarded here as an
endemic, that is, chiefly confined to the Minahassa and the Moluccas.
Much discussion has arisen whether leprosy is contagious. The doctor with
whom I resided while at Buru had been previously stationed at Amboina,
and while there a soldier who was born in Holland was taken, and died
with this disease. In that case it was evident that the disease was not
hereditary, and, after the most careful inquiry, the doctor was not
able to learn that he had ever been near a leper, or that he might have
taken the disease from any one; for all afflicted with this loathsome
malady in Amboina and the neighboring islands are banished to Molano, a
small island southwest of Saparua. This is the only case that I heard of,
during my travels among these islands, where a foreigner had suffered
from this disease. It may be remarked that this is not the leprosy spoken
of in the sacred Scriptures, where the sufferers are described as being
“white as snow.”
From the shore near Temumpa we had a delightful view over the bay of
Menado. The sea was as smooth as glass, and scarcely a ripple broke on
the sandy beach, which was shaded by graceful, overhanging palms. Before
me to the south rose the high mountains which form the great buttresses
to the plateau they enclose, and on my right was the sharp volcanic peak
called Old Menado because foreigners first established themselves on that
island, and then moved over to Celebes.
In the evening the Resident showed me the large wooden store-houses where
the coffee is received from the interior, and kept for exportation. As we
entered the building, I was surprised at the rich aromatic fragrance that
filled the air. It differed much more from the fragrance given out by the
coffee seen in our land than any one will readily believe. Here it is
stored in bags, just as it comes in from the plantations. In order that I
might see what superior coffee the Minahassa produces, the Resident had
several bags opened. I found the kernels, instead of being opaque, and
having, as when we usually see them, a tinge of bronze, were translucent,
and of a greenish-blue color. The best are those which have these
characters, and at the same time are very hard. This coffee commands a
much higher price than that of Java, and is superior to any raised in the
archipelago, unless it may be some that comes from the highlands in the
interior of Sumatra.
The coffee crop is subject to some variation, but the Resident informs
me that the average yield of the government gardens during the last few
years has been no less than 37,000 piculs (5,000,000 pounds). The whole
number of trees belonging to the government is 5,949,616, but a large
proportion of these are young, and therefore bear little or no fruit.
Several private individuals also own large plantations, that yield as
well in proportion to the number of trees they contain. The trees are
found to thrive best above an elevation of one thousand feet.
The native name of this plant and its fruit is _kopi_, a corruption of
the name in Dutch, the people who introduced it into this archipelago.
The tree, _Coffea Arabica_, is a native of Africa, between the tenth and
fifteenth degrees of north latitude,[49] but it thrives anywhere within
the tropics on the hundreds of high islands in the archipelago, as well
as in the dry lands where it is indigenous. It was as late as 1450,
about half a century before the discovery of our continent, that it was
brought over from Abyssinia to the mountainous parts of Arabia. In this
way it happened that the Arabians were the people who introduced it into
Europe. In 1690, forty years after, the people of Europe had learned to
use it as a beverage. Governor-General Van Hoorne had some of the seeds
brought to him from ports on the Arabian Gulf, by the vessels of the
Dutch East India Company, who then carried on some trade between those
places and Java. The seeds were planted in a garden near Batavia, where
the plants flourished well and bore so much fruit that their culture
was at once begun, and since that time has spread to many parts of the
archipelago, but the chief islands from which coffee is now exported are
Celebes, Bali, Java, and Sumatra. It is also raised to some extent in
the Philippines, and these and the Malay Islands furnish one-fourth or
more of all that is used. One of the first plants raised at Batavia was
sent to Holland, to Nicholas Witsen, the head of the East India Company,
where it arrived safely and bore fruit, and the plants from its seeds
were sent to Surinam, where they flourished, and in 1718 coffee began
to be an article of export from that part. Ten years later, in 1728, it
was introduced from Surinam into the French and English islands of the
West Indies, having previously been successively introduced into Arabia,
Java, and Holland. I am told that it was first brought here from Java by
a native prince, and, the remarkable manner in which it thrived having
attracted the attention of the officials, more trees were introduced. In
1822 only eighty piculs were produced; in 1834, a remarkably favorable
year, 10,000, but in the next year only 4,000 were obtained. In 1853
the crop was 13,000 piculs, and in 1854, 23,000. This indicates how
remarkably this crop varies in the same locality—in that year the total
number of trees was 4,600,000—and that there has been a steady increase
since, both in the number of trees and in the quantity of fruit they have
yielded; but yet not more than one-half the number are planted that might
be if the population was sufficiently great to take proper care of them.
With such an enormous yield a large surplus is left in the hands of the
government after it has paid the natives who cultivate it, the percentage
to the chiefs, and the cost of transportation from the small store-houses
in the interior to the large ones at Menado, from which it is put on
board of vessels either directly for foreign ports or to be taken to
Macassar and thence be reshipped to Europe. Though the government wishes
to give up its monopoly in the cultivation of spices in the Bandas and
Moluccas, I did not hear that it is particularly anxious to do so here
with the profitable cultivation of coffee.
From the store-houses we walked to the hospital, where I was shown a
patient whose case was most remarkable. He was a native of Kema, and
was bathing in one of the streams that flow through the village, when
suddenly he found his head between the teeth of an enormous crocodile.
Fortunately, the great reptile did not close his jaws, nor settle down
with his prey as usual, and another native, hearing the cries of his
friend, caught a large stick, and beat the brute until he let go. The man
was at once brought here to the hospital, and has now nearly recovered.
On his left jaw-bone there was one continuous incision from the ear
to the chin, and on the right side of his face the muscles near the
cheek-bone and on the temple were dreadfully lacerated. That a man should
ever escape alive after his head had once been between a crocodile’s jaws
is certainly the next thing to a miracle. I asked him what he thought
when he found his head in such a vice. “Well,” said he, coolly, “I
thought my time had come, but that I had better sing out while I could,
and that’s what saved me, you see.”
_December 28th._—At 6 A. M. bade the Resident good-by, and started for
the highlands in the interior with an _opas_ or official servant as a
guide and attendant. It was a lovely morning. The cuckoos were pouring
out their early songs, and the gurgling of the brook by the wayside
was almost the only other sound that disturbed the stillness of the
morning. A few cirri were floating high in the sky, and also a number
of cumuli, whose perpendicular sides reflected the bright sunlight like
pearly, opaque crystals. Along the way we met natives of both sexes
carrying tobacco and vegetables to market, the men having their loads
in a sled-shaped frame on their backs, and the women carrying theirs
in shallow baskets on their heads. Our road, which led to the south,
was—like all in the Minahassa—broad and well graded, and where it
ascended an acclivity coarse fibres from the leaves of the _gomuti_ palm
were laid across it from place to place to cause the water to drain off
into the ditches by its sides. When the road came to a village it always
divided, that all the carts may go round the village, and not through
it. This arrangement enables the natives to keep the street through
their village neat and smooth. Such streets usually consist of a narrow
road, bordered on either side by a band of green turf, and outside of
these are sidewalks of naked soil like the road. Six miles out we came
to Lotta, a village of about four hundred souls, and soon after began
to rapidly ascend by a well-built road, that zigzags up the sides of
Mount Empung, which forms one of the northern buttresses of the plateau
situated to the south and east. Nine _paals_ from Menado, when we were
about twelve hundred feet above the sea, I wheeled round my horse and
enjoyed a magnificent view over the bay of Menado and the adjacent shore.
Out in the bay rose several high islands, among them the volcanic peak of
Menado Tua, its head raised high in the blue sky, and its feet bathed in
the blue sea. Near the shore the land is very low, and abounds in various
species of palms. Farther back it begins to rise, and soon curves up
toward the lofty peak of Klabat.
The beautiful cirri which we had noticed in the early morning now began
to change into rain-clouds, and roll down the mountain, and soon the
beautiful landscape beneath us was entirely hidden from our view. The
road here passes through deep cuts that show well the various kinds
of rocks, which are trachytic sand, pumice-stone, and a conglomerate
of these materials. As we ascended we passed many places on the
mountain-side where the natives were cultivating maize, and from far
above us and beneath us came the echoing and reëchoing songs of the
natives, who were busy cultivating this exotic but most useful plant.
The custom of these people to sing while working in the field is the
more noticeable, because the Javanese and Malays usually toil without
thinking of thus lightening their monotonous labor. Upward and upward we
climbed until we were about three thousand feet above the sea, when we
came to two small villages. Beyond, the road again became level, and soon
we reached Tomohon, where I met the _controleur_ from Tondano, a large
village to the east, who had come at the Resident’s request to accompany
me for the rest of that day’s journey. Another horse was brought and
saddled for me, and we continued on toward the south, our party now
numbering six or eight, for the chief of each village and one or two
servants are obliged by law to accompany the _controleur_ from their own
village to the next one he comes to, in whatever direction he may choose
to travel. We soon after entered the charming village of Saronsong. In
the centre of it and on one side of the street is the chiefs house,
and opposite to it but back from the street is the _ruma négri_, and
the space between the two is a pretty garden abounding in roses. This
reminder of home gave me a thrill of pleasure that I shall remember as
long as I love to look on this, the most beautiful of all flowers. As we
galloped out of this village the thick rain-clouds and fog cleared away,
and only cumuli and cirri were again to be seen in the sky. I now had a
magnificent view, on the left, of the high range along the west side of
lake Tondano, toward the northwest of the sharp volcanic cone of Lohon,
about five thousand feet in height, west of that of Empung, attaining
nearly that height, and in the northeast Gunong Api with its three peaks.
Somewhat farther on we rode down into a little valley, where the road ran
along the side of a small lake, whose muddy water was of a dirty-white
color, and from which strong, almost strangling, fumes of sulphur were
rising—a most unearthly place, and one that would remind the traveller of
Bunyan’s picture of “the Valley of the Shadow of Death,” where the way
was narrow, and on either hand “ever and anon came up flame and smoke in
great abundance with sparks and hideous noises.” In one place a flock of
ducks was swimming in this sulphurous pool, and on its margin I noticed a
few waders running to and fro seeking food. Its banks were mostly covered
with ferns, the leaves of which were of a bright red, reminding one of
the brilliantly-colored leaves of our maples in autumn.
Near the next village, Lahendong, we made a short excursion to the left,
up a high but not a steep hill, to see the remarkable lake Linu. The
hill is the top of an old volcano, and soon, as we descended and turned
a sharp point, we found before us the lake now filling the bottom of the
crater. On our way down to a house near its edge, we passed a place where
much sulphurous gas was escaping. It looked indeed much like the top of a
great half-slaked lime-kiln. The lake is about half a mile in diameter,
and has an outlet on the southwest, through a former split in the old
crater-wall. In most parts the water has a blue color, but in some it
has a whitish tinge from gases that rise up through the bottom of its
basin. On the northeast end there is a large solfatara, like the one
we passed in coming down to the lake, but larger. Here it was that the
Italian count, Carlo de Vidua, who had travelled over a large part of the
globe, met with a misfortune that caused his untimely death. He ventured
too far on the soft, hot clay, and sank in, and before the natives, who
had cautioned him against going there, could take him out, he was burned
so badly that he died in a short time afterward at Amboina, whither he
was taken, that he might be cared for in the best possible manner. He
had travelled over a considerable portion of our own continent, and,
after escaping many imminent dangers, ventured in this spot too far.
Such is the history of many a daring traveller, and no one who comes out
here, where on the sea there are pirates, and on the land earthquakes
and savage beasts, and in some places still more savage men, can know at
what moment he is planning a fatal voyage, or when he is taking the step
that may be his last. Yet some one must take this risk if the limited
boundaries of our knowledge of these remote lands are ever to be extended.
Although the water of this lake is largely impregnated with sulphur
and other substances that rise up through its bottom, yet Dr. Bleeker
found two kinds of fish here, _Ophiocephalus striatus_, Bl., and _Anabas
scandens_, Cuv., and an eel, _Anguilla Elphinstonei_, Syk., which are
also found in the fresh waters of Java and Sumatra, and in India.
Returning to the main road, we continued on to Sonder, and, passing
through a part of the village, came to the _ruma négri_, a public-house
for any officer who chances to come to that place. This house is said to
be far better even than any of the same kind in Java. It stands at the
end of a long, beautifully-shaded avenue. The road is bordered with a
narrow band of grass, neatly clipped, and the sidewalks are of a white
earth, which has been brought from some distance. A fine grove surrounds
the house, and here are many _casuarina_ or cassowary-trees, the long,
needle-like leaves of which closely resemble the downy plumage of that
strange bird. This evening, as the full moon shines through the foliage,
the whole grove is transformed into an enchanted place.
CHAPTER XI.
THE MINAHASSA.
_December 29th._—Early this morning rode about two miles from Sonder in
a northwest direction, down over the edge of the plateau on which that
village is situated. The road was nothing but a narrow path, and led
along a deep ravine, whose sides in several places were high precipices.
A short distance beyond the native village of Tinchep is the beautiful
waterfall Munte, nine hundred and sixty-four feet above the sea, but six
hundred and fifty below Sonder. The height of the fall is about sixty
feet, and the width of the stream at this time is nearly twenty. The rock
over which it pours is a perpendicular wall of trachytic lava. The place
from which travellers view the fall is some two hundred feet above it,
where the road runs along the side of a mountain-chain, that curves in
the form of a horseshoe around it, and makes a magnificent background
for this charming picture. Luxuriant foliage hangs over the stream above
the cataract, and vines and small trees have found a foothold in the
crevices and on the projecting ledges of the steep wall beneath; and as
the showers of falling drops strike the ends of their branches, they
continually wave to and fro, though where the beholder stands, not the
slightest breeze is moving in the air. We had come at just the right time
to see it when it is most charming, for the early sun was then shooting
oblique bands of bright light across the falling water, and as the stream
is divided into millions of drops the moment it curves over the edge of
the cliff, those pearly spheres were now lighted up and now darkened, as
repeatedly they shot out of the shaded parts into the bands of golden
light.
Returning to Sonder, I proceeded along the main route in the southeast
direction to Sonder Tua, “Old Sonder,” and Kawangtoan, and thence to the
lovely négri of Tompasso. During this distance, of about eight miles, we
had slowly ascended until we were about five hundred and seventy-five
feet above Sonder. The view here is open on all sides. In the southwest
is Mount Tompasso, which attains an elevation of over thirty-eight
hundred feet. In the southeast the high, steep mountains are seen that
border this elevated plain on the south. Great land-slides appear on
their sides; and the people at Tompasso said that, not long before,
three natives, who had cleared and planted large gardens on the steep
declivities, went one morning to continue their labor, as usual, when to
their great surprise their gardens had disappeared, and all that was left
of them was a huge heap of sandstones and fragments of trees piled up on
the edge of the plain.
This village is laid out with a large, square pond in the middle, and
on a broad dike which crosses it is the highway. A well-graded street
borders this pond, and the houses on its four sides are all placed
facing its centre. The hedges that border the house-lots are mostly
composed of rose-bushes, and the pond itself is nearly filled with the
richly-colored and fragrant lotus, _Nymphæa lotus_, a large water-lily,
held sacred in Egypt and India as the symbol of creation. It is the
beautiful flower upon which Buddha is represented as sitting in each
of the great images, where he is supposed to personify the Past, the
Present, and the Future, three immense statues, to be seen in any of the
thousand temples in the East dedicated to that heathen god. The “lotus”
or “lotos” of northern Africa, the fruit of which was supposed to possess
the wonderful power of making all who tasted it forget their “homes and
friends and native shores,” is a tree, the _Celtis Australis_. If the
ancients, who delighted so much in fables and myths, had only known of
this charming place, they would have located their lotus-land here in
the distant East, where the air is so pure and balmy, and the scenery so
enchanting.
About a mile and a half beyond Tompasso we came to a number of
“mud-wells,” and I began to examine them; but, as a heavy shower was now
seen coming up, my attendant and I again leaped into our saddles and
dashed off at a fast canter to Langowan, where the chief very politely
insisted on my remaining with him instead of going to the next village—an
invitation I was happy to accept, for I was determined not to leave this
wonderful region until I had visited all the hot-springs in the vicinity,
especially as the missionary here offered to go with me on the morrow,
so that I should not fail to see those that were most interesting.
_December 30th._—Early this morning, in company with the missionary, the
_hukom tua_, and a number of natives rode back nearly to Tompasso to
reëxamine the mud-wells seen yesterday. The area in which most of them
are found is about half a mile square, on the side of a gentle declivity.
Some time before we came to them, we could tell where they were by the
quantities of steam and gas rising from them, and, as we came nearer, we
could hear the heavy bubbling of the principal one. It is of a triangular
form, and measures about thirty feet on a side, one of the angles lying
toward the top of the hill. The mud is generally of a lead color, and
varies in consistency from the centre, where it is nearly as thin as
muddy water, to the edges, where in some places it is as thick as cream,
and in others like putty. It boils up like pitch—that is, rises up in
small masses, which take a spherical form, and then burst. The distance
between the centres of these ebullitions varies from six inches to two
feet or more, so that the whole surface is covered with as many sets
of concentric rings as there are separate boiling points. Near each of
the centres the rings have a circular form; but, as they are pressed
outward by the successive bubbling up of the material within them, they
are pressed against each other, and become more or less irregular,
the corners always remaining round until they are pressed out against
those which originated from another point. By that time the rings have
expanded from small circles into irregular polygons. They, therefore,
exactly represent the lines of concretionary structure frequently seen in
schists, and represented in nearly every treatise on geology.[50] If this
bubbling action should cease, and in the course of time the clay become
changed by heat and pressure into slates, the similarity of the two would
perhaps be very close. Have, therefore, the particles now forming the
old schists which show this structure been subjected to such mechanical
changing in their relative position to each other, before they were
hardened into the schists they now form, as the particles of clay in this
pool are undergoing at the present time?
Near this large well was a hot-spring about three feet in diameter,
and two feet deep. Its temperature was as high as 98° Celsius, 208.4°
Fahrenheit, and of course much steam rose from its surface. We boiled
some eggs here hard in a few minutes. The water was pure and the natives
living in the vicinity frequently come and wash their clothing in this
natural boiler. No trace of vegetation could be detected beneath the
surface nor on its edges where the bubbling water splashed. At the foot
of the hill we visited a considerable lake which was strongly impregnated
with sulphur, and near it a pond of thick, muddy water which in several
places boiled up at intervals. About twenty of these boiling pools are
found on this hill-side, and in the low, marshy land at its feet. Up
the hill above the mud-well first described was a naked spot several
yards in diameter. It is composed of _tana puti_, white earth; that
is, decomposed lavas. Considerable steam was escaping from two or three
holes where the natives had been taking out this white earth or clay,
which they mix with rice-water and use in whitewashing their houses, a
common practice throughout the Minahassa. We now rode west to Tompasso,
and turning to the north came to a small village called Nolok. Thence
the natives guided us a short distance in a northeasterly direction
to a brook, and following up this for some distance, we came to a
large bowl-shaped basin about seventy-five feet in diameter and twenty
feet deep. Its sides were of soft clay, and so steep that we had much
difficulty in getting near enough to its edge to obtain such a view as
I desired, and the only way we accomplished it was by selecting a place
where the intertwining roots of many small trees made a kind of turf.
The coolies cleared away the shrubbery with their cleavers, and then
by taking the left hand of one native while he held fast to another
with his right, I was enabled to lean over its soft edge and obtain a
complete view of the boiling water which partly covered its miry bottom.
The stream which flows down into this basin rises on higher land to the
north, and is cool until it comes into this basin. Here it is heated and
strongly impregnated with sulphur, and changed to a whitish color. This
circular basin I suppose has been wholly formed by the motion of the
water that boils with the heat beneath it. One object in visiting these
hot springs was to ascertain at what degree of temperature vegetation
first began to appear. We therefore went down the stream, and began
following its course upward toward this basin. At a place where the
temperature was 48° Celsius, 118.4° Fahrenheit, the rocks and sticks in
the water were thickly covered with dark-green algæ. A little higher up
the temperature was 51° Celsius, 123.8° Fahrenheit, and algæ were still
present, though the fumes of sulphur that rose choked me as I stooped
to examine the temperature. We had now come to a thick jungle where the
ground was so soft and miry it was both difficult and dangerous to get
nearer the boiling pool. At last one of the natives was induced by the
promise of a large piece of silver to cut away the bamboos and small
shrubbery, if I would keep close behind him. Thus we slowly worked
our way several yards higher up, when I ordered him to turn toward
the stream. This hot-bog was certainly the next place to Tartarus. In
several places between the clumps of small trees and bamboos the water
was boiling and bubbling furiously, and pouring out great volumes of
stifling gases, but I followed my coolie so closely that he had no time
to regret his agreement, and at last we reached the bank of the stream,
a place was cleared, and fastening my thermometer to the end of a long
bamboo, I placed it in the hot, opaque water. Three times I repeated
the observation, and each time the mercury stood at 50° Celsius, 122°
Fahrenheit, but I judged from the rate it fell after the first reading
that it stood at 52°, certainly not higher, before it was raised into
the air. In this spot we had unfortunately come among hundreds of ants,
that came out and bit me until my ankles seemed to be surrounded with
live coals, and at the end of the third reading I dropped the bamboo
and ran back with all my might to escape these pests and end my misery.
While I held the thermometer in the bubbling (not boiling) water, I
ordered the coolie to raise the sticks that were floating in it, but
could not discern the slightest appearance of any vegetable growth,
though it was very noticeable a little farther down the stream where the
temperature of the water was not more than one degree lower, but where
the quantity of sulphur in the water must have been much less, judging by
the proportionate strength of the fumes that rise in the two places. All
the other readings given here were made while the mercury remained in the
water, and as the thermometer had been carefully marked the observations
are liable to but little error. If some other observer should go to the
same places and find a greater or less quantity of water, no doubt the
temperature also would be found to have slightly changed. The missionary
in our party, who had visited this place several times, assured me that
frequently, when the cold stream that flows into this basin is much
swollen by heavy rains, the water is thrown up at short intervals as high
as a common palm-tree, about fifty feet. The natives also told me they
had all often seen it in such violent action. The basin is therefore
nothing but the upper, expanding part of a deep geyser-like tube.
We now returned toward Langowan, and visited a large basin of hot water
to the left of the road, and about a mile from that village. Its basin
is bowl-shaped, nearly circular in form, forty-eight feet in diameter.
The water does not boil up except in one or two places, and almost the
only gas that escapes is steam. Its temperature is 78° Celsius, 172.4°
Fahrenheit. On one side is a small brook which carries off the surplus
water, for this is truly a spring, that is, a place where water flows
up from the ground. A short distance to the west and north are a number
of hills, from which this water no doubt comes. As stifling gases were
not pouring out, I had a better opportunity for examining the banks of
the brook, which flowed off sixty feet, and was then conducted across
the road by a causeway. Tracing it with the current several times, I
invariably came to the first indication of vegetable life in the same
place. It was a small quantity of algæ on the bottom of the brook, each
plant being about as large round as a pin, and an eighth of an inch
in length, and resembling the _Vaucheria_, or brook silk, the green
threads of which are seen in the fresh-water ponds by our roadsides in
summer. Here the temperature was 76¾° Celsius, 170.15° Fahrenheit. As
the water flowed out through this shallow brook, a large part of all
the sulphurous gas it contained of course passed off, and I believe the
vegetation began at that point, not so much because the water was 1¼°
Celsius cooler than in the basin, as because it was much purer, for at a
short distance nearer the basin, where the temperature was 77⅛° Celsius,
172.82° Fahrenheit, no kind of vegetation could be detected, and yet the
difference in the temperature of the water in the two places was only
three-eighths of a degree in Celsius’s scale.
Geologists suppose that our earth was once a molten, liquid mass, which
cooled by degrees until a crust was formed, that slowly thickened until
condensation began in the surrounding atmosphere, and thus the water of
the primeval ocean was formed. At first this water must have been just
below the boiling point, and the query has arisen, How cool did the sea
become before vegetation began to appear in it, and on the land then
above the sea? The partial answer indicated by the few observations above
is, that the presence of vegetable life depended more on the chemical
composition of the water than on its temperature. If it was as pure then
as the larger pool described above, the whole ocean was yet one great
steaming caldron when these very simple aquatic plants, each apparently
consisting of only a single branching cell, began to grow in the shallow
places along its shores. Before this time, however, other algæ, like
those which now grow in moist terrestrial places, may have been thriving
on the land in the steamy atmosphere.
_Sunday, December 31st._—At 8 A. M. attended the native church, where the
missionary preaches. It was well filled, and the attention manifested
by all was highly commendable. At the close of the service four or
five couples were married; the pastor, after performing the ceremony,
explaining to the husbands that they must support their wives, and not,
like the Alfura, who are heathens, live in idleness, and expect their
wives to support them. A _controleur_, who had been stationed in the
interior, back of Gorontalo, now arrived at Langowan, on his way to
Kema, having been transferred, at his request, to Sumatra. We should
therefore be companions on the steamer all the way to Java, which was
especially agreeable to me, as he spoke English well, and no one not
born in Holland can ever learn to pronounce the harsh gutturals of the
Dutch language with perfect ease and accuracy. From Langowan we rode
four miles in a northerly direction to Kakas, a village at the southern
end of the lake of Tondano. The _ruma négri_ here is one of the most
pleasantly-situated buildings in the Minahassa. It is large and carefully
built, and has broad verandas both toward the lake and the village. It
is surrounded with plots of green grass, neatly bordered with gravelled
walks, and rose-bushes covered with large crimson flowers. In the
evening, when the moon rose over the sharp peaks a short distance to the
east, and spread a broad band of silver light over the lake, the effect
was charming; and now, while we inhale the balmy air, and recall to mind
the ponds of beautiful lotus we have been passing, we may feel that we
are indeed in the enchanted lotus-land that Tennyson thus pictures:
In the afternoon they came unto a land
In which it seemed always afternoon;
At noon the coast with languid air did swoon,
Breathing like one that hath a weary dream.
Full-faced above the valley stood the moon;
And like a downward smoke the slender stream
Along the cliff to fall, and pause, and fall, did seem.
_January 1, 1866._—Walked with the _controleur_ and chief through the
village, and saw the mode of pounding out rice by water-power. The axle
of the water-wheel is made very long, and filled with a number of small
sticks, which, as they turn over, raise poles fixed in a perpendicular
position, that fall again when the revolving stick is drawn away from
them. A large boat, manned by seven natives, was made ready for me to go
to any part of the lake of Tondano and ascertain its depth. It occupies
the lower portion of a high plateau, and its surface, as measured by
S. H. De Lange, is two thousand two hundred and seventy-two English
feet above the sea. It is about seventeen miles long in a northerly and
southerly direction, and varies in width from two to seven miles. It
is nearly divided into two equal parts by high capes that project from
either shore. On the south and southwest and on the north, its shores are
low, and the land slowly ascends from one to five miles, and then curves
upward to the jagged mountain-crest that bounds the horizon on all sides.
In the other parts of its shores it rises up from the water in steep
acclivities. All the lowlands and the lower flanks of the mountains are
under a high state of cultivation, and the air is cool and pure, while it
is excessively hot and sultry on the ocean-shore below. Some writers have
regarded this lake-basin as an old extinct crater; and some, as only a
depression in the surrounding plain, or, in other words, the lower part
of the plateau. To settle this question beyond a doubt, it was necessary
to ascertain its form. I therefore asked the Resident if he could furnish
me with a line to sound with as I crossed it. He replied that he had
but one of two hundred fathoms, and that I could not expect to reach
the bottom with that, for all the fishermen who live on its shores
declare that it “has no bottom,” that is, is unfathomable. It would be
something to know that it was more than twelve hundred feet deep—so a
coolie was ordered to carry the line. From Kakas we rowed over a short
distance toward the high shore opposite, that being said to be one of
the immeasurable places. A heavy sinker was put on, and the whole line
cleared, so that it would run out freely to the last foot. I gave the
man at the bow the command, and the cord began to rattle over the boat’s
side, when suddenly it stopped short. “Is the sinker off?” “No, it’s on
the bottom.” “How many fathoms are out.” “Eleven fathoms and five feet.”
After this we sounded eight times, and the deepest water, which was near
the middle, between the two high capes, is only twelve fathoms and two
feet. The water not only proved shallow, but the bottom was found to be
as even as the lowland at the northern and southern ends of the lake.
The basin is therefore only a slight depression in the lower part of the
plateau. The only fishes known in this lake are the same three species
already mentioned as existing in the sulphurous waters of Lake Linu.
Reaching the large village of Tondano, at the northern end of the lake, I
was kindly received by the _controleur_, who had accompanied me already
from Tomohon to Sonder. A heavy rain set in, and I was obliged to defer
the rest of my journey till the next day.
_January 2d._—The thick rain-clouds of yesterday broke away this morning
as the sun rose, and the sky is now perfectly clear. The _controleur_
provided me with a horse, and a _hukom tua_ accompanied me as a guide.
Our course was nearly west, and soon the road became very steep, and
extremely slippery from the late rain. As we rose, the view over the
plateau beneath us widened, until we wound round the mountain to the
little village of Rurukan, the highest _négri_ in this land. The head
of this village guided us to the top of a neighboring peak, where I
found a large part of the Minahassa spread out before me like a great
map. From the point where I stood, there stretched to the south a high
mountain-chain, forming the western border of the lake of Tondano. A
little more to the east were seen the lake far below, and the level
land along a part of its shores, while on the opposite side of the lake
rose the mountains that form the other end of the chain on which I was
standing. This chain curves like a horseshoe, the open part being turned
toward the north. At the same point where all the details of this plateau
were comprised in a single view, by turning a little toward the north,
I could look down the outer flanks of this elevated region away to the
low, distant ocean-shore, where the blue sea was breaking into white,
sparkling surf. A little farther toward the north rose the lofty peak of
Mount Klabat, covered with a thick mantle of fleecy clouds, which had
a hue of ermine in the bright light. This mantle was slowly raised and
lowered by the invisible hand of the strong west wind. Beneath it, low on
the sides of the mountain, was seen a line of trees marking the shady
way I had taken from Kema to Menado. This is considered, and I believe
rightly, the finest view in the archipelago, and one of the most charming
in the world, because the other famous views, like that of Damascus, do
not include that great emblem of infinity, the open ocean.
[Illustration: THE GOMUTI PALM.]
Rice is raised at even as great an elevation as the place we had reached,
about four thousand five hundred feet, in what are called _kebon kring_,
“dry gardens.” These are known as _tegal_ lands in Java. The yield is
said not to be as large as on the low lands, _sawas_, by the margin of
the lake which are overflowed in the usual manner. The yearly crop in the
Minahassa is from one hundred and fifty to two hundred thousand piculs,
of which ten to eighteen thousand are exported chiefly to Ternate and
Amboina. Tobacco is also cultivated, but only for home consumption.
Cocoa is also raised; and this year (1865) forty-four and three-fourth
piculs were exported. Like that at Amboina, it is all bought by Chinamen,
who send it to Manilla. Cocoa-nuts are also exported to the chief
islands eastward. The yield this year is estimated by the officials at
four million. There is a great abundance here of the gomuti or sagaru
palm-tree, the large petioles of which spread out at the base into broad
fibrous sheets that enclose the trunk. Some of the fibres resemble
horsehair, but are much stiffer and very brittle, and are gathered by
the natives and manufactured into _coir_, a kind of coarse rope. As the
fibres soon break, they project in every direction until the rope becomes
extremely rough and difficult to handle. It has the valuable property,
however, of being nearly indestructible in water, and the Resident tells
me that this coir will probably prove of much value in manufacturing
telegraph-cable. The quantity of fibres that could be gathered yearly
would be very considerable if there should be any demand for them.
Among the flexible, horsehair-like fibres are coarser ones, which the
natives use for pens and arrows for their blowpipes, and interwoven
with them is a mass of small fibres nearly as soft as cotton, which are
used as tinder. The flowering part is cut off with a knife, and the sap
which exudes is gathered in a piece of bamboo. In this condition it
has a slightly acid and very bitter taste, resembles the thin part of
buttermilk, and is a very agreeable and refreshing beverage in such a
hot climate. As soon as it is allowed to ferment it becomes _tuak_, a
highly-intoxicating drink, of which the natives are very fond. This palm
prefers higher lands than the cocoa-nut, which flourishes well only on
the low areas near the level of the sea. It will be readily distinguished
from all the other palms of this land by its large leaves and the rough
appearance of its trunk. Gomuti is the Malay name for the coir only,
the tree itself they call _anau_. In Amboina the native name for it is
_nawa_, and in other parts of the archipelago it has local names, showing
that it is probably an indigenous plant. The soft envelopes of the
seeds, which are so numerous that, when ripe, one bunch will frequently
be a load for two men, contain a poisonous juice which the natives
were accustomed to use on their arrows, and which the Dutch have named
“hell-water.”
Besides the fruits already mentioned, there are durians, mangostins,
jambus or rose-apples, lansiums, pompelmuses, limes, bread-fruits,
bananas, pine-apples, and oranges. The latter are particularly nice,
and in one of the kinds the leathery rind is not yellow when the fruit,
which is merely a berry, is ripe, but still remains as green as when only
half-grown. It is the custom here at the table to peel this fruit with a
knife, exactly as we peel an apple.
From Tondano to Kema the road is built in a deep, zigzag ravine, and
commences to descend a mile north of the lake. Through the ravine flows
a stream which is the outlet of the lake. On the northern side of the
plateau where the road begins to descend, this stream is changed into a
waterfall, which is known as the waterfall of Tondano. It consists of
three falls, but, when seen from the usual point, a short distance north
of the lower fall, the upper and middle ones form a boiling rapid, and
only the lowest one presents a grand appearance. Where the first and
second occur the water shoots down through a deep canal, which has been
apparently formed in the rock by the strong current. Having rolled in a
foaming mass through this deep canal, the water takes a flying leap down
seventy feet into a deep, circular pool, the outer edges of this falling
stream breaking up into myriads of sparkling drops, which fall in showers
into the dark pool, where they disappear forever.
Here a strange tragedy occurred in the year 1855, when the
governor-general from Java was journeying through this land. One of the
highest officers on his staff, a gentleman who had previously been
governor of the Moluccas, came to this place while the others were
resting at Tondano, and committed suicide by plunging headlong into the
deep canal above the high fall. Only a short time before, he had dined
with the whole company and seemed very cheerful, but here, probably in a
moment of unusual despondency, he made the fatal leap.
Continuing in the way that followed this crooked stream, I occasionally
beheld the high top of Mount Klabat before me. Several large butterflies
flitted to and fro, their rich, velvety blue and green colors seeming
almost too bright to be real. At the eighth paal we came to the native
village Sawangan, and the chief showed me the burial-place of his people
previous to the arrival of Europeans. Most of the monuments consist
of three separate stones placed one on another. The lowest is square
or oblong, and partly buried in the earth. Its upper surface has been
squared off that the second might rest on it more firmly. This is a
rectangular-parallelopipedon, one or two feet wide and two-thirds as
thick, and from two to three feet high. It is placed on end on the first
stone. In its upper end a deep hole has been made, and in this the
body of the deceased is placed. It was covered by the third stone of a
triangular form when viewed at the end, and made to represent that part
of a house above the eaves. It projects a little beyond the perpendicular
stone beneath it. On the sides of the roof rude figures of men, women,
and children were carved, all with the knees drawn up against the chin
and clasped by the arms, the hands being locked together in front below
the knees. In many of these the faces of the figures were flat, and holes
and lines were cut representing the eyes, nose, and mouth; in others rude
busts were placed on the eaves. This burial-place contains the finest
monuments of olden times now existing in the Minahassa. Others can be
seen at Tomohon, and especially at Kakas, but they are not as highly
ornamented as these. At Kakas they are mostly composed of but two stones,
one long one set upright in the ground, and another placed over this as
a cover to the hole containing the body. At each of these places they
are entirely neglected, and many of the images here have already fallen
or been broken off. Noticing that a very good one was loose and ready
to fall, I remarked to the chief that, if I did not take it, it would
certainly soon be lost, and, before he had time to give his assent, I had
it under my arm. The missionary at Langowan informed me that originally
these graves were beset with such obscene ornaments that one of the
Residents felt it his duty to order that they should all be broken off.
This fact, and the rude form of the images, led me to think that they
ought to be classed with the remarkable temple found near Dorey, on the
north coast of New Guinea, and with the nude statues used by the Battas
to ornament the graves of their deceased friends.
[Illustration: THE BAMBOO.]
When the Portuguese first arrived in the Moluccas, this region was
tributary to the prince of Ternate. All the natives were heathen then,
and many of them yet retain the superstitious belief of their ancestors.
Mohammedanism had not gained a foothold among them, nor has it since,
and the only Mohammedans now in the land are the immigrants at Menado,
who have come from other parts of the archipelago, and a few natives
banished from Java. Even as late as 1833, but little more than thirty
years ago, Pietermaat, who was then Resident, in his official report,
says of these people: “They are wholly ignorant of reading, writing, and
arithmetic. They reckon by means of notches in a piece of bamboo, or
by knots made in a cord.” Formerly they were guilty of practising the
bloody custom of cutting off human heads at every great celebration,
and the missionary at Langowan showed me a rude drawing of one of their
principal feasts, made for him by one of the natives themselves. In front
of a house where the chief was supposed to reside, was a short, circular
paling of bamboos placed upright, the upper ends of all were sharpened,
and on each was stuck a human head. Between thirty and forty of these
heads were represented as having been taken off for this single festive
occasion, and the missionary regarded the drawing as no exaggeration,
from what he knew of their bloody rites.
The remarkable quantities of coffee, cocoa-nuts, and other articles
yearly exported from the Minahassa show that a wonderful change has come
over this land, even since 1833; and the question at once arises, What is
it that has transferred these people from barbarism to civilization? The
answer and the only answer is, Christianity and education. The Bible, in
the hands of the missionaries, has been the chief cause that has induced
these people to lay aside their bloody rites. As soon as a few natives
had been taught to read and write, they were employed as teachers, and
schools were established from place to place, and from these centres
a spirit of industry and self-respect has diffused itself among the
people and supplanted in a great measure their previous predisposition
to idleness and self-neglect. In 1840, seven years after Pietermaat gave
the description of these people mentioned above, the number of Christians
compared to that of heathen was as one to sixteen, now it is about as two
to five; and exactly as this ratio continues to increase, in the same
degree will the prosperity of this land become greater.
The rocks seen on this journey through the Minahassa, as noted above, are
trachytic lavas, volcanic sand and ashes, pumice-stone, and conglomerates
composed of these materials and clay formed by their decomposition. They
all appear to be of a late formation, and, as Dr. Bleeker remarks, the
Minahassa seems to be only a recent prolongation of the older sedimentary
rocks in the residency of Gorontalo. In this small part of the peninsula,
there are no less than eleven volcanoes. North of Menado is a chain
of volcanic islands, which form a prolongation of this peninsula. On
the island Siao there is an active volcano. North of it is the large
island of Sangir. According to Valentyn, the highest mountain on the
island underwent an eruption in December, 1711. A great quantity of
ashes and lava was ejected, and the air was so heated for some distance
around, that many of the natives lost their lives. North of the Sangir
islands are the Talaut group. These are the most northern islands under
the Dutch, and the boundary of their possessions in this part of the
archipelago.
The steamer Menado, on which I had previously taken passage from
Batavia all the way to Amboina, now arrived at Kema. She had brought my
collection from Amboina, Buru, and Ternate, and I was ready to return to
Java, for some months had passed since I accomplished the object of my
journey to the Spice Islands, and during that time I had travelled many
hundred miles and had reached several regions which I had not dared to
expect to see, even when I left Batavia. A whale-ship from New Bedford
was also in the road, and when I visited her and heard every one, even
the cabin-boy, speaking English, it seemed almost as strange as it did
to hear nothing but Malay and Dutch when I first arrived in Java. Many
whales are usually found east of the Sangir Islands, and north of Gilolo
and New Guinea.
_January 10th._—At noon steamed out of the bay of Kema and down the
eastern coast of Celebes for Macassar. When the sun was setting, we
were just off Tanjong Flasco, which forms the northern limit of the bay
of Gorontalo or Tomini. As the sun sank behind the end of this high
promontory, its jagged outline received a broad margin of gold. Bands
of strati stretched across the sky from north to south and successively
changed from gold to a bright crimson, and then to a deep, dark red as
the sunlight faded. All this bright coloring of the sky was repeated
in the sea, and the air between them assumed a rich, scintillating
appearance, as if filled with millions of minute crystals of gold.
The _controleur_, on board, who travelled with me from Langowan, has
been farther into the interior, south of Gorontalo, than any foreigner
previously. He found the whole country divided up among many petty
tribes, who are waging a continual warfare with each other; and the
immediate object of his dangerous journey was to conciliate two powerful
tribes near the borders of the territory which the Dutch claim as being
under their command. He found that all these people are excessively
addicted to the use of opium, which is brought from Singapore to the
western coast, near Palos, by Mandharese and Macassars.
The dress of the people consists of a sarong, made from the inner layers
of the bark of a tree. They have large parangs, and value them in
proportion to the number and minuteness of the damascene lines on their
blades. Twenty guilders is a common price for them. The _controleur_ gave
me a very fine one, which was remarkably well tempered. The most valuable
export from this bay is gold, which is found in great quantities, at
least over the whole northern peninsula, from the Minahassa south to
the isthmus of Palos. The amount exported is not known, for, though
the Dutch Government has a contract with the princes to deliver all
the gold obtained in their territory to it at a certain rate, they are
offered a much higher price by the Bugis, and consequently sell it to
them. No extensive survey has yet been made in this territory, by the
mining engineers employed by the government, and the extent and richness
of these mines are therefore wholly matters of the most uncertain
speculation. The fact, however, that gold was carried from this region
before the arrival of Europeans, more than three hundred and forty years
ago, and that the amount now exported appears to be larger than it was
then, indicates that the supply must be very great. The government
has not yet granted to private individuals the privilege of importing
machinery and laborers, and proving whether or not mining can be carried
on profitably on a large scale. A fragment of rock from this region
was shown me at Kema by a gentleman, who said he knew where there were
large quantities of it; and that specimen certainly was very rich in
the precious metal. Gold is also found in the southwestern peninsula of
Celebes, south of Macassar. The geological age of these auriferous rocks
is not known, but I was assured that, back of Gorontalo, an outcropping
of granite had been seen. Buffaloes and horses are plenty and cheap at
Gorontalo, and many are sent by sea to the Minahassa. The horses are very
fine, and from the earliest times the Bugis have been accustomed to buy
and kill them to eat, having learned that such flesh is a most delectable
food, centuries before this was ascertained by the enlightened Parisians.
_January 11th._—Last night and to-day the sea has been smooth, almost as
smooth as glass, while we know that on the opposite or western side of
Celebes there has been one continuous storm. This is why we have come
down the eastern side of the island. Here the seasons on the east and
west coasts alternate, as we have already noticed in Ceram and Buru,
though those islands extend east and west, while Celebes extends north
and south. To-day we passed through the Bangai group, lying between the
Sula Islands and Celebes. From the appearance of the water, and from such
soundings as are given, there appears to be only a depth of some thirty
fathoms in the straits. These islands, therefore, not only have formed a
part of the adjacent peninsula of Celebes, but do at the present day.
A remarkable similarity has been noticed between the fauna of Bachian,
near the southern end of Gilolo, and that of Celebes, and in the Bangai
and the Sula Islands we probably behold the remnants of an old peninsula
that once completely joined those two lands. When we compare Celebes and
Gilolo, we notice that the Bangai and Sula groups, stretching off to the
east and southeast from one of the eastern peninsulas of Celebes, are
analogous in position to Gebi, Waigiu, and Battanta, and the adjacent
islands which are but the remnants of a peninsula that in former times
connected Gilolo to the old continent of New Guinea and Australia.
Now, at sunset, we were approaching the Buton Passage, which separates
the large island of Buton from Wangi-wangi, “The Sweet-scented Island.”
This is a great highway for ships bound from Singapore to China in the
west monsoon, and several are now here, drifting over the calm sea.
Buton is a hilly island, but no mountains appear. Its geological
formation is said to consist of “recent limestone, containing madrepores
and shells.” Here, again, we find indications of the wide upheaval that
appears to be occurring in the whole archipelago, but especially in its
eastern part. It is quite famous for the valuable cotton it produces,
which, in the fineness and length of its fibres, is said to excel that
raised in any other part of the archipelago, and is therefore highly
valued by the Bugis and Macassars.
_January 13th._—This morning we passed a large American man-of-war coming
down grandly from the west, under steam and a full press of canvas. It is
a most agreeable and unexpected pleasure to see such a representation of
our powerful navy in these remote seas.[51]
The next day we passed through Salayar Strait, which separates the
southern end of the peninsula of Celebes from the Salayar Islands, and
may be regarded as the boundary between the alternating wet and dry
seasons on the opposite sides of Celebes.
_January 15th._—Arrived back at Macassar. There is nothing but one
continuous series of heavy, pouring showers, with sharp lightning and
heavy thunder.
_January 16th._—Sailed for Surabaya in Java. This morning there is only
such a wind as sailors would call a fresh, but not a heavy gale. In all
the wide area between Java and the line of islands east to Timur on the
south, and the tenth degree of north latitude, none of those frightful
gales known in the Bay of Bengal as cyclones, and in the China Sea as
“typhoons,” have ever been experienced. The chief sources of solicitude
to the navigator of the Java and the Banda Seas are the strong currents
and many reefs of coral.
Our large steamer is little else than a great floating menagerie. We
have, as usual, many native soldiers on board, and each has with him
two or three pet parrots or cockatoos. Several of our passengers have
dozens of large cages, containing crested pigeons from New Guinea,
and representatives of nearly every species of parrot in that part of
the archipelago. We have also more than a dozen different kinds of
odd-looking monkeys, two or three of which are continually getting loose
and upsetting the parrot-cages, and, before the sluggish Malays can
approach them with a “rope’s end” unawares, they spring up the shrouds,
and escape the punishment which they know their mischief deserves. These
birds and monkeys are mostly purchased in the Spice Islands; and if all
now on board this ship could be safely transported to New York or London,
they would far excel the collection on exhibition in the Zoological
Gardens of the latter city.
Besides the Chinese, Arabs, Malays, and other passengers forward, there
is a Buginese woman, a raving maniac. She is securely shackled by an
iron band around the ankle to a ring-bolt in the deck. One moment she is
swaying to and fro, and moaning as if in the greatest mental agony and
despair, and, the next moment, stamping and screeching in a perfect rage,
her long hair streaming in the wind, her eyes bloodshot, and flashing
fire like a tigress which has been robbed of her young. It would be
difficult to fancy a more frightful picture. They are taking her to the
mad-house near Samarang, where all such unfortunates are kindly cared
for by the government. Her nation, the Bugis or Buginese, are famous for
“running a muck.” _Amuk_, which was written by the early navigators “a
muck,” is a common term in all parts of the archipelago for any reckless,
bloody onset, whether made by one or more. It is, however, generally used
by foreigners for those insane attacks which the Malays sometimes make
on any one, generally to satisfy a feeling of revenge. When they have
decided to commit a murder of this kind, they usually take opium, and,
when partially under its influence, rush out into the street with a large
knife and try to butcher the first person they may chance to meet. Many
years ago such _émeutes_ were of frequent occurrence, and even at the
present time most of the natives who stand guard in the city of Batavia
are each armed with a long staff, on the end of which is a Y-shaped fork,
provided on the inner side with barbs pointing backward. This is thrust
against the neck of the murderer, and he is thus secured without danger
to the policeman.
CHAPTER XII.
SUMATRA.
On the third day from Macassar we arrived safely at Surabaya, and thence
proceeded westward to Samarang, and, on the first of February, 1866,
I was again in Batavia, having been absent in the eastern part of the
archipelago eight months. Through the courtesy of Messrs. Dümmler & Co.,
of that city, who obligingly offered to receive and store my collections
and forward them to America, I was left entirely free to commence a new
journey.
The generous offer of the governor-general to give me an order for
post-horses free over all parts of Java was duly considered; but as many
naturalists and travellers have described it already, I determined to
proceed to Sumatra, and, if possible, travel in the interior of that
unexplored island, and, accordingly, on the 12th of February, I took
passage for Padang on the Menado, the same steamer in which I had already
travelled so many hundred miles.
[Illustration: ISLAND of SUMATRA
_To Illustrate Professor Bickmore’s Travels._
Edwᵈ Weller]
From Batavia we soon steamed away to the Strait of Sunda, and once more
it was my privilege to behold the lofty peaks in the southern end of
Sumatra. From that point as far north as Cape Indrapura the coast is
generally bordered with a narrow band of low land, from which rises a
high and almost continuous chain of mountains extending parallel with the
southwest, or, as the Dutch always call it, the “west” coast, all the way
north to Achin.
The next morning, after passing the lofty peak of Indrapura, found us
steaming in under the hills and high mountains that stand by the sea at
Padang and rise tier above tier until they reach the crest of the Barizan
chain, producing one of the grandest effects to be enjoyed on the shores
of any island in the whole archipelago. Padang, unfortunately, has no
harbor, and the place where ships are obliged to anchor is an open,
exposed roadstead. There is a sheltered harbor farther to the south,
but it would cost a large sum to build a good road from Padang to it by
cutting down the hills and bridging the ravines. The distance from the
anchorage to the city is some three miles, and all the products exported
must be taken out to the ships on barges.
The city of Padang is situated on a small plain, whence its name;
_padang_ in Malay, meaning an open field or plain. Its population numbers
about twelve thousand, and is composed of emigrants from Nias, Java, some
Chinese and Arabs, and their mestizo descendants, besides the natives
and Dutch. The streets are well shaded and neat. Near the centre of the
city is a large, beautiful lawn, on one side of which is the residence
of the governor. On the opposite side is the Club-House, a large and
well-proportioned building. On the south side is a small stream where the
natives haul up their boats, and here the barges take in their cargoes.
This part of the city is chiefly filled with the store-houses and offices
of the merchants. In front of the governor’s residence is a large common.
Two of its sides are occupied by private residences and the church, the
roof of which has fallen in, and indeed the whole structure is in a most
dilapidated condition compared to the rich Club-House on the other side
of the green. Having landed and taken up my quarters at a hotel, I called
on Governor Van den Bosche, who received me politely, and said that the
inspector of posts, Mr. Theben Terville, whose duty it is not only to
care for transporting the mails, but also to supervise and lay out the
post-roads, had just arrived from Java, and must make an overland journey
to Siboga, in order to examine a route that had been proposed for a
post-road to that place.
He had promised the inspector, who was an old gentleman, the use of his
“American,” a light four-wheeled carriage made in Boston. There was room
for two in it, and he would propose to the inspector to take me with him,
and further provide me with letters to the chief officials along the
way; but as it would be two or three days before Mr. Terville, who was
then in the interior, would be ready to start, he proposed that I should
leave the hotel and make my home with him as long as I might remain in
Padang. “Besides,” he added, “I have eight good carriage-horses in the
stable, and I have so much writing to do that they are spoiling for want
of exercise; now, if you will come, you can ride whenever you please.”
So again I found myself in the full tide of fortune. It is scarcely
necessary to add that I did not fail to avail myself of such a generous
offer. In the evenings, when it became cool, the governor was accustomed
to ride through the city, and occasionally out a short distance into the
country. Our roads were usually shaded with tall trees, frequently with
palms, and to fly along beneath them in a nice carriage, drawn by a span
of fleet ponies, was a royal pleasure, and one never to be forgotten.
One pleasant day we drove out a few miles to a large garden where the
governor formerly resided. The palace had been taken down, but a fine
garden and a richly-furnished bathing-house yet remain. The road out from
Padang to this place led through a series of low rice-lands, and just
then the young blades were six or eight inches high, and waved charmingly
in the morning breeze. The road, for a long distance, was perfectly
straight and bordered by large shade-trees. It was one of the finest
avenues I ever saw. Here I was reminded of the region from which I had
so lately come, the Spice Islands, by a small clove-tree, well filled
with fruit. Much attention was formerly given here to the culture of the
clove, but for some years raising coffee has proved the most profitable
mode of employing native labor. There were also some fine animals in
various parts of the garden, among which was a pair of the spotted deer,
_Axis maculata_. Thus several days glided by, and the time for me to go
up into the interior and meet the inspector came almost before I was
aware of it.
_February 21st, 1866._—At 8 A. M. we started from Padang for Fort de
Kock, sixty miles from this city. A heavy shower during the night has
purified the air, and we have a clear, cool, and in its fullest sense a
lovely morning. This “American” is generally drawn by two horses, but
the governor has had thills put on so that one may be used, for he says,
between Fort de Kock, where the present post-road ends, and Siboga, a
distance of about one hundred and ninety miles, by the crooked route that
we must travel, that we shall find it difficult to get one horse for a
part of the way. Behind the carriage a small seat is fastened where my
footman sits or stands. His duty is to help change the horses at the
various stations, which are about five miles apart. When the horses are
harnessed his next duty is to get them started, which is by far the most
difficult, for most of those we have used to-day have been trained for
the saddle, and we have not dared to put on any breeching for fear of
losing our fender, these brutes are so ready to use their heels, though
fortunately we have not needed any hold-back but once or twice, and then,
by having the footman act as hold-back himself with a long line, I have
urged on the horse, and in every case we have come down to the bottom
of the hill safely. With only a weak coolie tugging behind, of course I
have not been able to make these wild horses resist the temptation to go
down the hill at a trot, and, after running and holding back until he
was out of breath, the coolie has always let go, generally when I was
half-way down; nothing of course then remained to be done but to keep the
horse galloping so fast that the carriage cannot run on to him, and by
the time we have come to the bottom of the hill we have been moving at
a break-neck rate, which has been the more solicitous for me, as I had
never been on the road, and did not know what unexpected rocks or holes
there would be found round the next sharp turn.
From Padang the road led to the northwest, over the low lands between
the sea and the foot of the Barizan, or coast chain of mountains. In
this low region we have crossed two large streams, which come down from
these elevations on the right, and are now quite swollen from the recent
rains. A long and large rattan is stretched across from one bank to the
other, and a path made to slip over it is fastened to one end of a rude
raft. This rattan prevents us from being swept down the boiling stream,
while the natives push over the raft with long poles. I began to realize
what an advantage it was to ride in the carriage of the _Tuan Biza_, or
“Great Man,” as the Malays all call the governor. As soon as those on
the opposite side of the stream saw the carriage they recognized it, and
at once came over by holding on to the rattan with one hand and swimming
with the other. In their struggles to hasten and kindly assist, several
times the heads of a number of them were beneath the water when they
came to the middle of the stream, where the current was strongest and
the rattan very slack; but there was very little danger of their being
drowned, for they are as amphibious as alligators. I had not been riding
long over these low lands before I experienced a new and unexpected
pleasure in beholding by the roadside numbers of beautiful tree-ferns,
which, unlike their humbler representatives in our temperate regions,
grow up into trees fifteen to eighteen feet high. They are interesting,
not only on account of their graceful forms and limited distribution, but
because they are the living representatives of a large family of trees
that flourished during the coal period.
[Illustration: APPROACH TO THE “CLEFT,” NEAR PADANG.]
As we proceeded, our road approached the base of the Barizan chain until
we were quite near them, and then curved again around some spur that
projected toward the sea-shore. Late in the afternoon we came to the
opening of a broad, triangular valley, and beheld on our right, and near
the head of the valley, the towering peak of Singalang, whose summit is
nine thousand eight hundred and eighty feet above the sea. Large numbers
of natives were seen here travelling in company, returning homeward from
the market at Kayu Tanam, the next village. Their holiday dress here as
elsewhere is a bright red. Beyond Kayu Tanam the road ran along the side
of a deep ravine, having in fact been cut in the soft rock, a narrow wall
of it being left on the outer side to prevent carriages from sliding off
into the deep chasm. Suddenly, as we whirled round the sharp corners
while dashing through this place, we came into a deep cañon extending to
the right and left, called by the Dutch the Kloof, or “Cleft,” a very
proper name, for it is a great cleft in the Barizan chain. Up this cleft
has been built a road by which all the rich products of the _Padangsche
Bovenlanden_, or “Padang plateau,” are brought down to the coast.
Opposite to us was a torrent pouring over the perpendicular side of the
cleft, which I judge to be about seventy-five feet in height. Where it
curved over the side of the precipice it was confined, but, as soon as
it began to fall, it spread out and came down, not in one continuous,
unvarying sheet of water, but in a series of wavelets, until the whole
resembled a huge comet trying, as it were, to escape from earth up to its
proper place in the pure sky above it. On either side of this pulsating
fall is a sheet of green vegetation, which has gained a foothold in
every crevice and on every projecting ledge in the precipice. Behind the
falling water there is a wall of black, volcanic rock, and at its foot is
a mass of angular _débris_ which has broken off from the cliff above. Now
we turned sharply round to the north, and began ascending to the plateau.
The cleft has not been formed in a straight but in a zigzag line, so
that, in looking up or down, its sides seem to meet a short distance
before you and prevent any farther advance in either direction; but, as
you proceed, the road suddenly opens to the right or left, and thus the
effect is never wearying. It resembles some of the dark cañons in our
own country between the Rocky Mountains and Sierra Nevada, except that
while their dark sides are of naked rock, the sides of this ravine are
covered with a dense growth of vines, shrubs, and large trees, according
to the steepness of the acclivities. Here were many trees and shrubs with
very brilliantly-colored leaves. The whole scenery is so grand that no
description, or even photograph, could convey an accurate idea of its
magnificence. For four miles we rode up and up this chasm, and at last
came on to the edge of the plateau at the village of Padang Panjang.
We were then more than two thousand four hundred feet above the plain,
having ascended about two thousand feet in four miles. Here the inspector
left word for me to wait a couple of days for him, as he was still away
to the south. Heavy showers continued the next day, so that I had little
opportunity of travelling far; besides, it was very cool after coming up
from the low, hot land by the shore. There is almost always a current of
air either up or down this cleft, and the warm air of the coast region is
brought into contact with the cool air of the plateau, and condensation
and precipitation seems to occur here more abundantly than at any other
place in the vicinity, the number of rainy days numbering two hundred
and five. This is no doubt due to the local causes already explained.
The average temperature here is 49.28° Fahrenheit. In the cleft, at one
or two places, are a few houses made by the people who have moved down
from the plateau. They are placed on posts two or three feet above the
ground. Their walls are low, only three or four feet high, and made of a
rude kind of panel-work, and painted red. Large open places are left for
windows, which allow any one passing to look in. There are no partitions
and no chairs nor benches, and the natives squat down on the rough floor.
It requires no careful scrutiny of these hovels to see that they are
vastly more filthy than the bamboo huts of the Malays who live on the low
land.
In all the villages I have passed to-day, both on the low land and here
on the plateau, there is a _pasar_, or market, and, where they have been
erected by the natives, they are the most remarkable buildings I have
seen in the archipelago. They are perched upon posts like the houses.
The ridge-pole, instead of being horizontal, curves up so high at each
end, that the roof comes to have the form of a crescent with the horns
pointing upward. Sometimes a shorter roof is placed in the middle of the
longer, and then the two look like a small crescent within a large one.
Long before Europeans came to this land these people were accustomed to
meet to barter their products, and this was their only kind of internal
commerce. The next morning I rode part way down the cleft to near the
place where the post-horses are changed, and found a marble that was
soft, but so crystalline as to contain no fossils. I understand, however,
that Mr. Van Dijk, one of the government mining engineers, discovered
some pieces of this limestone which had not been crystallized, and that
he considered the species of corals seen in them to be entirely of the
recent period. Limestone again appears in the cleft of Paningahan, a
short distance to the south. The rocks with which it is interstratified
are chloritic schists, that is, layers of clay changed into hard schists
by the action of heat and pressure.
_February 23d._—The inspector arrived this morning, and we set out
together for Fort de Kock, about twelve miles distant. From Padang
Panjang the road continues to rise to the crest of a ridge or _col_,
which crossed our road in an easterly and westerly direction, and
connects Mount Singalang with Mount Mérapi. This acclivity is very nicely
terraced, and the water is retained in the little plats by dikes. When
any excess is poured into the uppermost in the series, it runs over into
those beneath it, and thus a constant supply of water is kept over all.
On looking upward we saw only the vertical sides of the little terraces
covered with turf, and, in looking down, only the rice-fields. Near the
crest of the col we could look down the flanks of the Mérapi to Lake
Sinkara away to the south. The earth here is a tenacious red clay formed
by the decomposition of the underlying volcanic rocks and volcanic ashes
and sand. These are arranged in layers which have an inclination nearly
parallel to the surface. The layers of ashes and sand may have been
partly formed in their present position by successive eruptions in the
summits of the neighboring peaks, but those of clay show that the col has
been elevated somewhat since they were formed. The height of this col is
three thousand seven hundred feet, and this is the highest place crossed
by the road from Padang to Siboga. We now began slowly to descend,
passing wide, beautifully-cultivated sawas on either hand to Fort de
Kock. Here on a pretty terrace is located the house of the Resident, who
has command of the adjoining elevated lands, so famous in the history of
this island as the kingdom of Menangkabau, whence the Malays originally
migrated, whom we have found on the shores of all the islands we have
visited, and who are very distinct from the aborigines of these islands,
as we have particularly noticed at Buru.
[Illustration: WOMAN OF THE PADANG PLATEAU.]
The dress of the men here is not very different from that of the Malays
of Java, but the costume of the women is remarkable. On the head is
worn a long scarf, wound round like a turban, one end being allowed to
hang down, sometimes over the forehead, and sometimes on one side, or on
the back of the head. The upper part of the body is clothed in a baju of
the common pattern, and passing over one shoulder, across the breast,
and under the opposite arm is a long, bright-colored scarf. The ends of
this, as well as that worn on the head, are ornamented with imitations
of leaves and fruit, very tastefully wrought with gold thread. At the
waist is fastened the sarong, which is not sewn up at the ends as in
other parts of the archipelago. It is therefore nothing but a piece
of calico, about a yard long, wound round the body, and the two ends
gathered on the right hip, where they are twisted together, and tucked
under, so as to form a rude knot. As the sarong is thus open on the right
side, it is thrown apart higher than the knee at every step, like the
statues representing the goddess Diana in hunting-costume. Their most
remarkable custom, however, is distending the lobe of the ear, as seen in
the accompanying cut from a photograph of one of the women at the kampong
here at Fort de Kock. When young, an incision is made in the lobe, and
a stiff leaf is rolled up, and thrust into it, in such a way that the
tendency of the leaf to unroll will stretch the incision. When one leaf
has lost its elasticity it is exchanged for another, and, in this way,
the opening increases until it is an inch in diameter. This must be a
very painful process, judging from the degree to which the ears of the
young girls are inflamed and swollen. A saucer-shaped ornament, with a
groove in its rim, is then put into the ear, exactly as a stud is put
into a gentleman’s shirt-bosom. It is generally made of gold, and the
central part consists of a very fine open work, so that it is very light,
yet the opening in the ear continues to increase until it is frequently
an inch and a half in diameter, and almost large enough for the wearer
to pass one of her hands through. The front part of the loop is then
only attached to the head by a round bundle of muscles, smaller than a
pipe-stem, and the individual is obliged to lay aside her ornaments or
have the lower part of her ears changed into long, dangling strings.
While these ornaments (for it is not proper to call such a saucer-shaped
article a ring) can be worn in the ear, the appearance of the native
women, as seen in the cut, is like that of the other Malay women; but
as soon as these ornaments are taken out, and the lobes of their ears
are seen to be nothing but long loops, their appearance then becomes
very repulsive. The men are never guilty of this loathsome practice.
A similar habit of distending the lobe of the ear prevails in Borneo,
among the Dyak women. It is also seen in all the Chinese and Japanese
images of Buddha, The native women of India are accustomed to wear
several small rings, not only all round in the edge of the ear, but in
the nostrils. A large number of rings are shown in the ear of the cut of
a Dyak or head-hunter of Borneo. Even in the most civilized lands this
same barbaric idea—that a lady is made more prepossessing by having
some foreign substance thrust through, and dangling from, each ear—still
prevails.
After we had rested from our ride, the Resident took us through the
adjoining kampong. The houses were like those already described in the
Cleft. Our attention was particularly drawn to the magnificent bamboos by
the roadside, many of which attain a height of forty or fifty feet.
_February 24th._—The inspector, having travelled for some time, prefers
to rest to-day, and as I am anxious to see the lake of Manindyu, which
is some distance off our route, I avail myself of the opportunity.
The Resident kindly gave me a very fine saddle-horse, and early this
morning we started in a northwesterly direction for Matua. Our path at
once led down from the high plateau into a series of deep valleys with
perpendicular sides, composed of stratified sand and clay, formed by the
disintegration and decomposition of pumice-stone. These deep valleys
have been wholly formed by the action of the rapid streams which flow
in their bottoms, and which, by changing their courses from one side of
the valley to the other, have carried away the talus that has formed at
the bases of the cliffs. These cliffs, therefore, are perpendicular,
whether the valleys be wide or narrow. The strata of the sand and clay
are so horizontal that we are warranted in considering them deposited in
a lake of fresh or salt water. No fossils of any kind, so far as I can
learn, have ever been seen in these late deposits, to determine whether
they are of lacustrine or marine origin. The upper edges of the sides of
these deep valleys are so sharply defined that the buffaloes, feeding
on the grass-lands above, unconsciously venture too far, and of course
are instantly killed by such a high fall, and, for this reason, the Dutch
call them “buffalo holes.”
At several places small tributaries come in as branches to the main
stream, which here flows to the northwest, and the tongue of land in the
acute angle of such branches rises up like a perpendicular wall with
a sharp edge. These deep valleys resemble the cañons of the Colorado,
which were also formed by the erosive action of running water; but here
the scenery is on a small scale compared to those deep, dark, gloomy
chasms. Two or three times we climbed the zigzag path that led up the
sides of one valley, and then went down again into the next valley. The
bottoms of these cañons, being well watered, are admirably suited for
the cultivation of rice, and here were some plats still overflowed where
the rice was only a few inches high, and not far from them others, where
the natives were collecting the ripe, golden blades. Such a mingling of
planting the seed, and gathering in the ripe grain, appeared the more
strange when I thought of our temperate climate, where we are obliged to
sow at a certain time in the year or reap no harvest. The higher lands
between these valleys form a plateau, which, from Fort de Kock to Matua,
is very sterile when compared to the high land farther south.
From Matua our course changed to the west and lay through broad sawas
filled with half-grown rice. It slowly ascended, until we found ourselves
on the edge of a crater of most enormous dimensions. Thick rain-clouds
gathered and began pouring down heavy showers, which obscured every
thing about us, and I could only see that we stood on the edge of a vast
yawning gulf. Our way now rapidly descended first to the right and then
to the left, and, as I looked down into the deep abyss which we were
descending, such thick vapors enveloped us that every thing was hidden
from our view at the distance of a hundred yards, and it seemed as if
we must be going down into the Bottomless Pit. Down and down we went,
until at last I became quite discouraged, and seriously began to think
of explaining to my native guide that the wisest heads which lived in my
land believe that the centre of the earth is nothing but a mass of molten
rock, and to inquire of him whether he was sure we should stop short of
such an uncomfortable place, when the thick mist which enshrouded us
cleared away, and I beheld far, far beneath me a large lake, and above me
the steep, overhanging crater-wall which I had descended; but I was only
half-way down, yet I had the satisfaction of knowing there was an end to
the way, and, besides, the road was not so steep, and consequently not so
slippery as the half we had already come. So we slipped and plodded on,
and early in the afternoon I came to the residence of the _controleur_ of
that region, at the village of Manindyu, on the east side of the lake.
The height of the edge of the crater where we began to descend is
thirty-six hundred feet, and that of the lake fifteen hundred and
forty above the sea. The perpendicular distance that we had come down,
therefore, was over two thousand feet; but to come that distance,
our road had zigzagged so continually to the right and left, that we
had travelled five miles. Toward evening the rain ceased, and the
_controleur_ conducted me a short distance north of the kampong to a hot
spring, where the natives have a square pool for bathing, and covered it
with a small house, for they ascribe all sorts of healing virtues to this
warm water. I found the water to be perfectly pure to the eye, and free
from any sensible escape of gas. Its temperature was 102½° Fahrenheit,
and an abundance of algæ was seen on the rocks beneath its surface.
At sunset, the heavy clouds that had filled the crater during the day
slowly rose upward, but not so high at first as to allow us to see the
tops of the peaks in the serrated crest of the crater-wall opposite. The
bright sunlight, therefore, shone in through the triangular openings
between the lower surface of the level clouds, and the bottoms of the
sharp valleys, and these oblique bands of golden light fell on the water
at some distance from the opposite shore, and then came over the lake and
illuminated the place where we sat watching this unique and magnificent
view.
After the sunlight had faded, the clouds rose higher, and I could look
round and behold all sides of the largest crater it has been my privilege
to see, and indeed one of the largest in the world. The general height
of the wall does not vary much from that point where I crossed it coming
down, and is very steep, except at that place, and in many parts nearly
perpendicular. It is not circular, but composed of two circles of unequal
diameter, which unite on one side, and leave a tongue of land projecting
from the east and west sides. Each of these circles is a crater, and
the tongues of land that project from either side of the lake mark the
boundaries between them. The width of the larger crater at the level
of the lake, as given on the best maps I have been able to consult,
is three geographical miles; that of the smaller crater, at the same
level, two and a quarter miles; and the length of the lake, which lies
in a northerly and southerly direction, and is approximately parallel
to the great Barizan chain in which it is found, is no less than six
geographical miles. These two craters, I believe, were not formed at the
same time. The larger crater, which is on the north, is older, and the
smaller one to the south is the later, the eruptive force which formed
the larger having lost some of its power, as well as having slightly
changed its position when it formed the smaller. This gigantic crater is
the more interesting to us, because it is as large as the one we supposed
formerly existed in the Banda Islands, when we regarded Great Banda, Pulo
Pisang, and Pulo Kapal, as parts of the walls of that crater, if, as was
then suggested, that crater was not circular, but nearly elliptical,
like this great one of Manindyu. Even the famous crater of the Tenger
Mountains becomes of moderate dimensions, when compared to this.
In the western side of the larger crater is a cleft or deep ravine
that conducts the superfluous waters to the sea. This split, it may be
noticed, has occurred on the side toward the sea, where, of course, the
wall of the crater was thinnest and weakest. This region is considered
quite valuable, because coffee-trees flourish here remarkably well. The
coffee obtained is brought over the lake in boats to the mouth of the
outlet, and thence transported to the village of Tiku, on the coast.
The _controleur_ also showed me a quantity of the edible birds’-nests
obtained in the neighboring cliffs, that were considered of a superior
quality, that is, by Chinese palates, for, if the Celestials had not
taken a fancy that these should be regarded as dainties, I do not believe
that Europeans would have ever thought of tasting them.
_February 25th._—At eight o’clock rode back with the _controleur_ up
the crater wall, by the way I came down yesterday. The road is built on
the spur or projecting ridge that forms the boundary between the two
craters on the east side, and zigzags to the right and left in such
a manner that, when viewed from beneath, it reminds one of the way,
usually pictured, that the people of Babel climbed their lofty tower.
To shorten the distance, we went over a number of steep places, instead
of going round by the road. The clay and wet grass, however, were so
slippery that such climbing was exceedingly dangerous; but the rider
had the satisfaction of knowing that, if his horse did lose his footing
altogether, they would both go down so many hundred feet that neither
would suffer pain for many moments after their descent was ended.
The heavy rain of yesterday had wholly cleared away, and when we reached
the crater rim we enjoyed a perfect view of this enormous gulf, six
miles long and four miles broad, and more than two thousand feet deep.
Apparently the crater had ceased its action a long time ago, and now the
hot springs on the borders of the lake are the only reminders of the
causes that formed it ages and ages ago. As we looked down from our high
point, clouds were seen floating beneath us, and on the opposite wall of
the crater long, narrow, vertical strips of naked earth marked the places
where land-slides had come down its precipitous declivities.
Soon after we reached Matua, the inspector arrived from Fort de Kock, and
we went on together toward the northwest. The road was exceedingly rough,
and, after riding five miles, our little pony became so worn out that I
got out and walked to Palimbayang, the next station, a distance of nine
miles, in the scorching, tropical sun. The road from Matua is built on
the side of the Barizan chain, and we had on our right a deep valley, in
the bottom of which coursed the stream that we had previously crossed in
the deep cañons near Fort de Kock. Several small streams came down from
the mountains on our left, and in the side valleys, where those streams
entered the main one, the natives had formed many terraces.
A number of these smaller valleys had the form of an ellipse, cut
in two at its minor axis. In the distance they looked like immense
amphitheatres, the horizontal terraces forming the seats for the
imaginary spectators—amphitheatres of such ample dimensions that, in
comparison with them, even the great Coliseum at Rome dwindles into
insignificance.
The height of this point is a little less than that at Matua, and all the
way from Fort de Kock to this place I have been able to keep in sight the
remains of the plateau which begins on the south with the _col_ between
the Singalang and Mérapi. The horizontal layers, that once filled the
whole valley west of us, have been carried away by the streams until
only a narrow margin is left on the Barizan, and its parallel chain; it
forcibly reminds me of the terraces seen along the upper part of some of
our own New-England rivers—for instance, those in the upper part of the
Connecticut Valley.
Here, at Palimbayang, I have had the first opportunity of enjoying a view
of that magnificent mountain, Ophir, nine thousand seven hundred and
seventy feet in height. Its truncated summit indicates that its highest
parts are the ruins of an old crater, and this thought reminds us of the
volcanic action to which the mountain owes its birth. The name of this
mountain is not of native origin, but was given it by the Portuguese,
because they fancied that at last they had found the place where the
ships of Solomon obtained the enormous quantities of gold that he used
in adorning the magnificent temple of Jerusalem. The same name they also
gave to another, but a much smaller mountain, on the Malay Peninsula,
forty miles north of the city of Malacca.
[Illustration: A SCENE IN THE INTERIOR OF SUMATRA.]
In the vicinity of both of these mountains much gold had been obtained
for centuries before Europeans ever came to this region. The idea
entertained by the Portuguese, that a part of the gold which reached
Jerusalem came from this island and the peninsula, has been the subject
of much ridicule, but, nevertheless, there may be considerable evidence
in favor of such an hypothesis.
No one region is known in that part of the east that could have furnished
all the different articles brought by Solomon’s fleet; and Ophir has
therefore been considered the name of an emporium, situated near the
entrance of the Red Sea, or, more probably, near the head of the
Arabian Sea, at the mouth of the Indus. The names in the Hebrew of the
articles thus brought, show that they are all of foreign origin, having
been evidently adopted from some other language, and probably from the
Sanscrit.[52] The name for peacock appears to have been derived from the
word in Tamil, a language spoken on the Malabar coast by the Telingas,
or “Klings,” who visited this island and the Malay Peninsula long before
the time of Solomon, 1015 to 975 B. C., for the tin used by the Egyptians
in making their implements of bronze, as early as 2000 B. C., doubtless
came from the Malacca, and the Klings were the people who took it as
far toward Egypt as the eastern shore of India. Tin and gold are both
obtained in the same manner, namely, by washing alluvial deposits.
Gold is found in small quantities over a very considerable part of the
Malay Peninsula. It has always been more highly valued than tin, and it
is, therefore, by all means probable that it was an article of commerce,
and was exported to India as early as tin, or at least five hundred
years before Solomon commenced building his splendid temple.
Gold is also found in the western and southern parts of Borneo, and in
some places on Luzon and Magindanao, in the Philippine Archipelago. As
we have already noticed, it is found on Bachian, and, in the northern
and southern peninsulas of Celebes. It is indeed one of the most
widely-distributed metals obtained in the archipelago. It is not only
found on many of the islands that are not wholly of volcanic origin,
between Asia and Australia, but also from place to place over both of
those continents. The quantity obtained here, on Sumatra, is wholly
unknown, but, judging from what is used in ornaments, it must be very
considerable. It is always bought and sold in the form of “dust,” and has
never been coined for money in any part of the archipelago, except at
Achin.
CHAPTER XIII.
TO THE LAND OF THE CANNIBALS.
_February 26th._—At 7 A. M. rode down the edge of the plateau to the
bottom of a deep ravine, and then climbed up the opposite ridge. Here
we met all the rajahs and their attendants in the vicinity, and again
descended to the bottom of a second ravine to the little village of
Pisang. As the way was exceedingly rough, I preferred to ride a nice
horse the _controleur_ had given me, to being jolted in the carriage.
Beyond Pisang our road lay in a narrow valley, and, as the sky was
clear and the neighboring hills prevented any breeze from reaching us,
we seemed to be at the focus of a great burning lens. In the thick
woods on either hand troops of large, black monkeys kept up a hooting
or trumpeting, their prolonged cries sounding exactly like a score of
amateurs practising on trombones. In some places the din they made was
quite deafening. In one place the road passed through a deep cut through
strata, composed of sand and conglomerate, which probably once filled
the whole valley. From Pisang, which is at an elevation of seventeen
hundred feet, we continued to descend until we came to the small valley
of Bondyol, which is only seven hundred and forty feet above the sea.
On the way we met the _controleur_ superintending the construction of a
bridge, for the officials in these small places have to plan buildings
and bridges and be at the same time judges, architects, and masons. The
residence of this officer was located on a hill rising on one side of
the small valley. It was nicely shaded, and commanded a view over the
adjoining lowlands, which were all sawas. At this place I saw some of the
beautiful little musk-deer of this region—a deer that is only about a
foot and a half high, without antlers, and weighs less than a rabbit.
There were more than a dozen monkeys in the backyard. Some of them were
of the dog-like species, others with long tails and long limbs. Some of
them were extremely restless, while others sat still and looked so grave
and dignified as to be more comical than their mischievous companions.
There are ten species on this island, none of which are found in Java,
while the four species of Java are never seen here, such a limit does
the Strait of Sunda form to the faunæ of these two islands, although
it is only fifteen miles wide in some places, and islands are nearly
midway from either shore. The most remarkable of the apes found on the
island is the orang-utan, which lives in the lowlands in the northern and
eastern parts of the island. The governor at Padang had a live one that
had been sent him from that region. She was more than three feet high
and very strong. Escaping one time from the box where she was fastened,
she climbed a neighboring shade-tree and commenced breaking off large
limbs and placing them in a fork of the tree until she had made herself
a nice resting-place. That, however, not being high enough, she climbed
up nearly to the top of the tree and then broke all the twigs near her,
and thus formed a second couch. She did not sway to and fro continually,
as many monkeys do, but used to sit quietly picking off all the foliage
within her reach, and then took up another position and demolished
the foliage there in the same manner. It is very singular this animal
is found on Sumatra and Borneo, and has never been seen on the Malay
Peninsula, which almost lies between them.
_February 27th._—At 7.30 A. M. started on horseback for Lubu Siképing. At
first the road led through the lowland near Bondyol, and then crossing
a rapid stream began to ascend a narrow winding valley. My little pony
took me up the steep places apparently with as little exertion as if
we were ascending a gentle acclivity. Like all the saddle and carriage
horses used in the archipelago, he was a stallion, it being considered
among all these islands as disgraceful for a man to ride or drive a
mare as it would be in our land for a farmer to plough with a yoke of
cows. Even geldings are never seen, and, as would naturally be expected,
the stallions, unless remarkably well-trained, are very vicious, and,
worse than all, extremely capricious, springing, or kicking, or halting,
without any provocation, and without giving their rider the slightest
warning; but, when they are perfectly trained, they are among the finest
saddle-horses in the world, they are so fleet and so sure-footed. In a
short time the narrow valley changed into a deep ravine, and the road
continued to ascend along one of its steep sides, and became so narrow
that I was afraid my horse would lose his footing in the soft clay, and
that we should both go down to certain destruction on the rocks that
raised their ragged jaws above the spray of the foaming torrent below.
A dark forest of primeval, gigantic trees covered the sides of the
mountains above us, and crossing a rickety bridge we found many of their
huge trunks lying across our path. They had lived to their allotted age
and had not fallen by the hand of man. This road has been lately made,
and already great fissures in its outer edge show that it is quite ready
to slide down the mountain.
Large troops of monkeys have established themselves in this dark gorge,
and just when I was in the most dangerous place they made a frightful
noise, some trumpeting, some screeching, and some making a prolonged
shrill whistling, yet I could only see one or two, though the natives who
were building the road assured me that the tops of the trees were full of
them. While in this deep ravine I crossed the equator for the third time
since I entered the archipelago.
I had now climbed up one thousand four hundred feet during my short
ride, and was therefore two thousand one hundred feet above the sea.
To the northwest there now opened out before me a long, narrow, gently
descending valley, like the one I had left behind; in fact, this
water-shed is merely a transverse ridge which unites the Barizan chain
with the chain parallel to it, in the same way as it is done by the
transverse ranges in which the Mérapi and the Sago rise. This appears to
be naturally as fruitful a region as the Menangkabau country proper, and
was undoubtedly included within the limits of that empire during its most
flourishing period. This valley is generally very poorly cultivated, on
account of the small numbers of its population. By the wayside were a
number of coffee-gardens. The trees were well filled with fruit, but they
had been greatly neglected, and the tall grass was rapidly choking them.
A few miles farther on I came to Lubu Siképing, where we were to rest
until the next day. A native _opziener_, or “overseer,” was stationed
here to receive the coffee from the adjoining plantations. He had not
heard of our coming, and was quite surprised to see a stranger here
in such a remote spot among the mountains, and not the less so when I
informed him that the inspector was just behind me, and that I only
chanced to be in advance because, from what I had heard of the road in
the gorge, I had no fancy to ride through it in a wide carriage. He
received us, however, like all the other officials, in the most polite
manner, and was evidently glad that something had occurred to break up
the dull routine of such a life of exile. It was market-day here, and, as
soon as I met some of the natives returning to their homes, I saw that
they were a different people from those of the Menangkabau country, and
the overseer told me that they are not natives of this particular region,
but belong to the wild tribe of Lubus, which I should see farther up the
valley, and that it is for this reason that this place is called Lubu
Siképing. They now build houses like those of other Malays. They are
better-formed people than the Javanese, and closely resemble in their
features the _Oranglaut_, or common Malays of the coast regions. Their
favorite holiday-dress is chiefly a bright scarlet. Half an hour after I
arrived here the inspector came. He had found the road so narrow in one
or two places that the natives had to push out planks beyond the outer
edge of the road to support the outside wheels of the carriage, and I was
glad that I came on horseback, though, when I led the vicious brute, I
had to keep a constant watch to prevent him from seizing my wrist in his
teeth.
At 5 P. M. we walked out to enjoy the grand scenery in the vicinity.
The level plateau here, which is one thousand five hundred feet above
the sea, is bounded on the northeast side by an exceedingly steep,
almost overhanging range of mountains, whose several crests appear to be
five thousand feet above us. It was one of the most imposing sights I
witnessed on that island of high mountains. Mount Ophir is just west of
this place, and at sunset we saw it through a gap in the mountains near
us, resting its lofty purple summit against the golden sky.
_February 28th._—I find it much more agreeable to ride on horseback most
of the time, because I can stop or turn round when I please, and the
opziener has therefore given me a horse to go the next ten paals. For all
that distance the scenery was much like that described last night, except
that the valley kept widening as we progressed northward, and, therefore,
the mountains, being farther from us, were not so imposing. When we had
come to the limit of the overseer’s territory, another living in the
next district met us and travelled with us to his little house, where we
dined on venison while he entertained us with tiger-stories. Only a few
days before we arrived he had seen a tiger in the road but little more
than a rifle-shot from his house; and, indeed, the deer that supplied
the venison we were eating had been shot in his own garden, where it
had evidently been chased by one of those ferocious beasts. At the
opziener’s houses there is a regular price for every thing furnished, and
you order what you please, though one can seldom feast on venison, and
must generally satisfy his hunger on chickens and eggs, and, to receive
both of these different articles, he needs only to order the latter. In
the houses of all officials of a higher rank than opzieners it would be
considered no less than an insult to offer to pay for your lodging. From
this place I rode with the inspector a distance of twenty-five miles to
Rau, the chief village in this valley. We had not gone far before we
came into herds of buffaloes, which are more than half-wild and said to
be very dangerous, but the natives that accompanied us kept up a loud
shouting, and the herd leaped to the right and left into the jungle
and tall grass, and allowed us to pass on unmolested. The people here
sometimes shoot them, but consider it a most dangerous kind of sport, for
they say that when one is wounded, but not fatally, he will certainly
turn and pursue the hunter, and, if he can overtake him, will quickly
gore him to death.
On our way we crossed several long, covered bridges, one of which was so
low and our horse so unmanageable, that we came near losing the top of
our carriage before we could throw it back. Two or three of them were
so bent down in the middle by only a buffalo and a native occasionally
crossing them, that I was unwilling to risk myself in the carriage, and
jumped out and crossed them on foot. One vibrated up and down in such
a manner that I certainly expected at the next moment I should see the
inspector, horse, bridge, and all, in the midst of the stream below. This
stream begins at Lubu Siképing, and, after flowing northwest to Rau,
where it is called Sumpur, it curves to the northeast, and, receiving
tributaries during its course, flows on till it empties into the Strait
of Malacca. The coffee raised in this valley is transported in _padatis_
from Lunda, a small village south of this place, over a high, difficult
way to Ayar Bangis, on the west coast. Sometimes a hot simoom sweeps
up the valley from the south, parching up the vegetation and causing a
severe illness to those foreigners who are exposed to it. The mountains
here are much lower on the east than on the west, and, as there are no
deep clefts in the Barizan chain here, as in the Menangkabau country, the
Sumpur is obliged to find its outlet to the east.
The soil here is not as fertile as farther to the north, where it is
somewhat higher, the elevation of this point being only one thousand
feet. Here we see the benefit of the transverse ranges that connect
the Barizan to its parallel chain. At Bondyol, in the next valley to
the south, where we were yesterday, we found the bottom of the valley
abounding in rich vegetation, though that was three hundred feet lower
than this place, because that valley is so short that the air has no room
to become heated to a dry simoom, which can wither the vegetation as it
sweeps along. It is, therefore, in this valley that the simoom is formed,
not on the high mountains that border it or on the adjacent ocean.
_March 1st._—Left Rau at 6 A. M., for we have another long day’s journey
before us. As yesterday, the road led along the bottom of the valley,
but soon a range of mountains appeared before us, and we began to ascend
along the side of a deep ravine. The rock here was exposed, and proved
to be a soft sandstone covered with clay. Here we came to a third
water-shed two thousand one hundred and fifty feet high, and could look
back down the valley of Rau to the southeast. Its length in a right line,
from this water-shed to that at the gorge near Lubu Siképing, is thirty
geographical miles, but, instead of being straight, it curves to the
northeast, and is of a crescent form, widest in the middle, and gradually
narrowing toward the extremities. In its broadest part it is not more
than six or eight miles wide. We now turned to the northwest, and began
to descend into another valley, that of Mandéling. Here the mountains
are quite devoid of forests, and only covered with a tall, rank, useless
grass, the _Andropogon caricosum_.
At Marisipongi, the first village we came to in this valley, we found
we were among an entirely new people, the Battas or Bataks. They also
belong to the Malay race, but have an alphabet and a language of their
own. Each of their villages usually consists of only a single street,
which is straight, and not necessarily parallel to the road. Here it was
market-day, and, while we stopped to rest, I had a good opportunity of
observing them. The women generally wore only a sarong fastened at the
waist and descending to the knee, the upper part of the body being wholly
uncovered. As we passed, the younger women made up for this deficiency
to the best of their ability with the scarf in which they were carrying
their children. These young women have the odd custom of wearing from
fifteen to twenty _iron_ rings in each ear, and as many more on their
arms above the wrist.
A great many persons of both sexes, and even some children, were
afflicted with that unsightly malady, goitre, and had large swellings,
generally on the neck, though I noticed one at the lower end of the
breastbone. The cause assigned here by the Dutch officials for this
disease is that these people have been accustomed to use very little
salt, the iodine contained in that condiment being supposed to act as
a preventive to the development of the disease. It is said to seldom
or never appear among those Malays who have lived on the sea-coast for
several generations, and I do not remember to have seen a single case in
such a locality.
The market-place was nothing but a shed, and here a few Chinese and
Arabs were displaying cotton cloth, knives, and ornaments, and the
natives had brought dried and smoked fish, which they catch in these
mountain-streams, also bananas, jambus or rose-apples, and a kind of
fruit like that from which the guava jelly is made.
Rice is the chief article of food of the natives here, with dried fish
and bananas, and a few eggs and chickens. From this village we rode to
Kotanopan, our way again descending along a large foaming brook, in which
the opziener of that district assured me the natives were accustomed to
wash for gold, which they still obtain, though only in small quantities.
Here we passed the grave of a Batta. It consisted of a rectangular mound,
with a wooden image of a horse’s head on one end, and a part of a horse’s
tail fastened to the other—the mound forming his body. At each of the
four corners was an image of a nude man or woman. Over the whole was a
rude roof supported on four posts, and around the whole was placed a row
of sticks four feet high, and a foot or two apart, bearing on their tops
small flags of white cloth. This tendency to ornament graves we have
already noticed among the aborigines of the Minahassa. It is also seen,
but in a more revolting form, in the Papuan temple at Dorey.
_March 2d._—From Kotanopan we have come to Fort Elout, after a journey
of more than ordinary danger. For the first five miles our road was
very good, but then we found it completely overgrown with tall grass.
So long as it was over the level lands there was little danger, but
soon it changed to the flanks of a spur, thrown out by the chain that
formed the northeastern boundary of the valley. There it became very
narrow, and the tall grass completely hid its outer edge. Besides, our
horse was wholly unaccustomed to a carriage, and only half-trained, and
every few moments took it into his head to stop so short that we had to
hold on to the carriage all the time, or at an unexpected moment find
ourselves going over the fender. The road was now taking us out toward
the end of the spur, the ravine was growing deeper and deeper with an
alarming rapidity, and I began to wish myself out of the carriage, but
the inspector was unwilling to stop the horse for fear we could not get
him started again. A Malay was guiding our wild steed by the bit, and
away we were dashing at full gallop, when suddenly, as we rounded the
spur, the road, which was cut in the rock, was so narrow that the outside
wheels of the carriage were just on its outer edge, and from that verge
the rock descended in such a perpendicular precipice that I could look
from my seat in the carriage down fully two hundred feet, with a boiling
torrent beneath me. It was evidently too late to jump then, so I seized
hold of the carriage, determined not to go off before my companion, the
inspector, who, realizing at once our great danger, and perceiving that
the only thing that we could do was to keep the horse going at the top
of his speed, shouted to the horse, and, in the same breath, threatened
to take off the Malay’s head if he should let go of the bridle. Some
fragments of rock had fallen down into the road, and our fore-wheel, on
the inner side, struck these with such violence that I thought certainly
we should be thrown off the narrow shelf down the precipice. For two
minutes we seemed to hang in the air, and then the road widened. I drew
a long breath of relief, and then bounded out over the wheel on to the
solid ground, before I could fully satisfy myself that, thanks to a kind
Providence and the force of gravitation, I was really safe.
[Illustration: RIDING ALONG A PRECIPICE.]
The inspector said that he had travelled many thousand miles in Java, in
all manners of ways, and through all manners of dangers, but was never so
frightened before, and that he would not go back that way in a carriage
for ten thousand guilders. If we had only known what we were coming to,
we could have got out and walked, but it was already too late when we saw
the danger. I determined to ride no farther in the carriage that day,
and made our guide exchange places with me, and give me his horse. This
dangerous place the natives call Kabawjatu, “where-the-buffaloes-fall.”
Only a short time before, a Malay was driving a single buffalo to market
along this way, when he shied a little, went off headlong, and was dashed
in pieces on the rocks beneath.
A short distance beyond this place we changed horses, at a little
settlement of the Lubus. Their houses are scattered over the
mountain-side, and not gathered into one place. They are ten or fifteen
feet long, and eight or ten wide, and perched on high poles. The walls
are made of bamboo, and the roofs are thatched with straw, like all that
we have seen since leaving Lubu Siképing, instead of atap, which is
used by all the natives farther south. The officials here informed me
that these people eat bananas, and probably most fruits, maize, dogs,
monkeys, and even _snakes_, but never rice; and this is the more strange
because it is the staple article of food among their neighbors. They are
yet slaves to their rajah, just as the people of all the tribes in this
vicinity were before they were conquered by the Dutch, for the Lubus, so
far as we know, remain as they were in the most ancient times. Here I
enjoyed a magnificent view of the active volcano Seret Mérapi, the summit
of which is five thousand nine hundred feet above the sea. It is not a
separate mountain like the Mérapi of the Menangkabau country, but merely
a peak in the Barizan chain. From its top a jet of opaque gas rose into
the clear, blue sky, while small cumuli came up behind the coast-chain
from the ocean, and seemed to settle on its highest summits, as if weary,
and wishing to rest, before they continued their endless flight through
the sky.
When we again came to the bottom of the valley, we found what seemed to
us a wonder—a smooth, well-graded road, bordered on either side with a
row of beautiful shade-trees. All the low land in this vicinity is used
for sawas, and the rice, which was mostly two-thirds grown, waved most
charmingly in the light wind, that reminded me of our summer-breezes. The
inspector, who was an old gentleman, felt somewhat worn out with such
incessant jolting, and, as I had been travelling without stopping for
eight days, I was only too glad to have one day of rest also.
At sunset, as is always the custom in these tropical lands, we took an
evening walk. The many fires now raging in the tall grass that covers the
lower flanks of the mountains have so filled the air with smoke, that
when the sun had sunk behind the serrated crest of the Barizan, the whole
horizon for twenty degrees and to a considerable height was lighted up
with one unvarying golden glow. Here the Barizan is composed of four or
five parallel ranges, which rise successively one above the other until
the last forms the highest elevation in that chain. These different
ranges were of various shades of color; that the nearest to us, or the
lowest, being the darkest, and those above it of a lighter and lighter
hue up to the highest range, which had a bright border of gold along
its crest; and from that line to where we stood the air seemed filled
with a purple dust. As the daylight faded, the fires in the tall grass
on the hill-sides became more distinct; sometimes advancing in a broad,
continuous band, and sometimes breaking up into an irregular, beaded
line. Soon afterward the moon rose as charmingly in the east as the sun
just gloriously set in the west. First a diffuse light appeared along the
mountain-tops and whitened the fleecy cumuli hovering over their summits.
Then that part of the sky grew brighter and brighter until the light of
the full moon fell like a silver cascade over the serrated edge of the
high mountains and rested on the tops of the hills below. An assistant
resident is stationed here at Fort Elout, who has charge of this fruitful
valley of Mandéling, which is wholly inhabited by the Battas. The
territory between this valley and the west coast is also inhabited by
this rude people. The Resident explained to us the trouble taken by the
government and the expense it was incurring, in order to teach them
to read and write, and cultivate the land. One time the older children
burned all the books given them by the government, supposing that, of
course if they had no books, they would not be required to go to school.
Earthquakes are frequent here, and, but a short time since, seven shocks
occurred in one day. All came from the south, exactly from the direction
where the Seret Mérapi is seen burning. Most of them were accompanied
by a noise, which preceded the shock long enough for the Resident to
remark to a friend, “there comes another,” before the shock itself was
perceived. Here we saw many hanging birds’-nests, most ingeniously
constructed. They were made of fine grass, woven into a mass having the
form of a pear or gourd, from eight inches to a foot long. The smaller
part is attached to the end of a drooping twig, and on the bottom at
one side is the opening of a tube about an inch and a half in diameter.
This rises vertically for four or five inches and then curves over and
descends like a syphon. At the end of the short part of this syphon the
tube is enlarged to a spherical cavity, and here the ingenious bird lays
her eggs. In order to appreciate the remarkable skill required to make
the nest, it would be necessary for one to see a series of them, from
those which have been just begun to those that are nearly finished, for
the tube which is to lead to the nest is not formed by blades of grass
wound into rings or a helix, but is built up from a single direction
until the two curving sides meet. Among the sawas are small artificial
pools, where fish are raised as in China; a custom probably introduced
by the Chinese themselves. After these shallow pools have been used for
this purpose a year or two, the fish are taken out, the larger ones sent
to market, and the smaller ones transferred to another pond. The water
in the first pool is then drained off, and its bottom becomes a fruitful
rice-field. In this manner the natives allow their land to lie fallow,
and at the same time make it yield a good crop.
_March 4th._—At 6 A. M., started from Rau for Padang Sidempuan, at the
northern end of this valley, which begins on the south at Marisipongi,
where we first saw the Battas. All day our route has been in the bottom
of the valley, at a general elevation of one thousand feet. Sometimes we
passed over gentle undulations, but usually over one monotonous level
area covered with tall grass, in which were interspersed large clumps of
shrubbery. In one village there were two most enormous waringin-trees,
under which the villagers had prepared a rude table. On this they had
spread young cocoa-nuts, and bananas, apparently the only kinds of fruit
they had to offer.
As we advanced, the mountains on our right dwindled until they formed
hills, whose tops were only five or six hundred feet above the plateau
in which we were travelling. Before us rose another great transverse
ridge, in which towered up the peak of Lubu Rajah to a height of over
six thousand two hundred feet above the sea. It is the highest mountain
in the Batta Lands, as the Dutch call the high plateaus of Silindong
and Toba which lie north of this transverse ridge, and are beyond the
limits of the territory subject to the government of the Netherlands
India. Soon after we arrived, the _controleur_ received a letter from
a Batta chief. It was nothing but a piece of young bamboo a couple of
inches in diameter and about six inches long. On this had been scratched,
with a blunt needle, characters of various shapes, quite intricate, but
not having by any means the barbarous appearance of those used by the
Chinese. The object of this letter was to inform the _controleur_ that
during a recent rain a bridge near the rajah’s village had been washed
away. Unlike the Chinese language, where every character is a word,
the Batta is an alphabetic language, and one of their own invention.
As spoken by the various branches of this tribe it differs only to the
degree of dialects, and the language is, therefore, a unit. The religion
of this people is a belief in evil spirits and omens. The place where
their aboriginal civilization sprang up was probably in the neighboring
plateau of Silindong and on the borders of Lake Toba. Thence they seem to
have spread over all the area they now occupy in the interior and to the
sea-coast on either side. In later times the people of Menangkabau, or
Malays proper, extended their power along the coast and made the Battas
an inland people.
The strangest fact concerning this people, who have come to such a state
of civilization as to invent an alphabet of their own, is, that all of
them, beyond the territory under the Dutch Government, are _cannibals_.
Those living on this plain also feasted on human flesh until the Dutch
conquered them, and obliged them to give up such a fiendish custom. The
rajah of Sipirok assured the governor at Padang that he had eaten human
flesh between thirty and forty times, and that he had never in all his
life tasted any thing that he relished half as well. This custom has
prevailed among the Battas from time immemorial.
From Marco Polo’s writings we learn that, as early at least as in 1290,
they were addicted to their present revolting habits.
Sir Stamford Raffles, who visited Tapanuli Bay in 1820, was informed that
any one who should be convicted of the following five crimes must be cut
up alive: For adultery; midnight robbery; in wars, where prisoners were
taken; intermarrying in the same tribe; and for a treacherous attack on
any house, village, or person. The facts which came to my knowledge while
in this region, and the statements of the Dutch officials and of the
natives themselves, entirely confirm this account of their customs and
laws, except in regard to that against intermarrying. Such are yet the
practices of the people in this immediate vicinity, and such, not many
years ago, were those of all the people among whom we had been travelling
for the last four days.
Here, and at several other places in the interior, I have seen young
trees of a species of cinnamon, _kayu manis_, or “sweet wood” of the
Malays. Its leaves and bark have a considerable aroma, but it is not the
true cinnamon of Ceylon, nor that of Cochin China nor China. Cinnamons of
one or more species occur also in Java, Borneo, Luzon, and Magindanao.
As our carriage needed repairing, and both the inspector and I were
becoming fatigued, we therefore rested at this place for a day.
_March 6th._—Started early in the carriage for Lumut, in a westerly
direction. Our road continued to ascend until we reached the water-shed
formed by the Barizan, and were two thousand five hundred feet above
the sea. We now passed out of the great valley of Mandéling, which is
fifty-five miles long in a right line, but only from six to ten miles
broad.
The descent from the water-shed toward the sea is gradual, but the road
is execrable and exceedingly narrow at best, and wholly covered, except
a narrow footpath, with tall grass. Besides, our horses had never been
harnessed to a carriage before, and, after many fruitless attempts to
guide them, I said to the inspector that the only way we should be able
to proceed would be to make the wild natives, who gathered to look on,
haul us themselves. He replied that that would be perfectly impossible,
for they respect no one but the governor. However, I noticed that they
recognized our “American” as the one the governor had used in travelling
that way once before—the only time a carriage had ever been seen on
the road—and jumping out, directed our Malay attendants, who could
speak their language, to say to them the governor wished us to take
the “American” through to Siboga, and every man must help us obey his
command. This chanced to strike them favorably, and their rajahs detailed
some twenty to haul us as far as the next village. I selected three of
the tallest and fleetest and placed them between the thills, and ranged
others outside to haul, by means of long rattans fastened to the forward
axle, and a suitable proportion behind to hold back by a rattan secured
to the hind part of the carriage as we went down-hill. All being in their
places, I jumped into the carriage. A wild yell was raised, and away we
dashed down a gradual descent, as if we were drawn by a race-horse; the
road became steeper and steeper, and we flew faster and faster; those
behind had evidently forgotten what was expected of them. Those in front,
who were outside of the thills, dropped the rattan and leaped aside for
fear of the rattling wheels behind them, and those in the thills shouted
out all sorts of implorings and execrations against those behind, who
seemed to enjoy the discomfiture of their fellows too much to hold back
at all. When we reached the bottom of the long hill, the men in the
thills were the only ones near the carriage. The others were scattered
at intervals all the way down the hill, but were coming on as fast as
they could. All seemed in the best of temper, except those in the thills,
who gave a spirited lecture to the others; but at once all formed as
before, and took us up the succeeding hill. The inspector was in constant
apprehension of some mishap, but I thought we might as well be drawn by
wild men as wild horses.
Just before we arrived at each village, the rajah of that place met us
with men enough to take us on to the next kampong, and sometimes we had
forty or fifty of them drawing us at a time. On the level lands they
usually took us along at a fast canter, shouting, and screaming, and
leaping, as if they were half mad.
At noon we came to the famous suspension bridge of rattan, of which I had
been hearing the most frightful accounts for the last hundred miles. At
once I took off my shoes to avoid slipping, and hastened down the airy,
oscillating way, without allowing myself to look down and become giddy
at the fearful depth beneath me. At the middle it rests on the tops of
tall trees, which grow up from a small island in the torrent far below.
It has been constructed by first stretching across three large rattans.
On them narrow strips of boards are placed transversely, and fastened at
each end by strips of common rattan. Other rattans, starting from the
ground at a little distance back of the bank, pass above the branches
of high camphor-trees that grow on the edge of the chasm in which the
torrent flows. Descending from these branches in a sharp curve, they
rise again steeply at the farther end of the bridge. From these rattans
vertical lines are fastened to the rattans below them, exactly as in our
suspension bridges, and thus all parts are made to aid in supporting the
weight. At each bank the bridge is some eight feet wide, but it narrows
toward the middle until it is only two feet, where it vibrates the most.
I had been directed to go over, if possible, at a hurried walk, and thus
break up the oscillating motion, and particularly cautioned against
seizing the side of the bridge, lest it might swing to the opposite side
and throw me off into the abyss beneath. When I had gone half-way across
the first span I found that one of the cross-boards, on which I was just
in the act of placing my foot, had become loose and slipped over to one
side, so that, if I had stepped as I had intended, I should have put my
foot through, if indeed I had not fallen headlong and been dashed on the
rocks in the torrent more than a hundred feet beneath me. I therefore
stopped instantly, and allowed myself to swing with the bridge until
it came to a state of rest, and then again went on slowly, and safely
reached the opposite bank. My companions, who stood on the bank behind
me, became greatly alarmed when they saw me stop in the midst of the long
span, and were sure that I had either become giddy, or was frightened,
and that, in either case, I would grasp hold of the side of the bridge
contrary to their express orders.
[Illustration: HANGING BRIDGE OF BAMBOO; SUMATRA.]
The difficulty in crossing this bridge, which is as flexible as Manilla
rope, is so great, not only because it oscillates to the right and left,
but because there is a vertical motion, and its whole floor, instead of
moving in one piece, is continually rolling in a series of waves. An
official, who had taken very careful measurements of it in order to make
an estimate of the cost of erecting a true bridge, for this airy way does
not deserve such a substantial name, gave me the following figures: total
length, 374 feet; height of the middle and lowest part of the first span
above the torrent, 108 feet; height of the middle and lowest part of the
second span, 137.5 feet. The inspector then came over safely, and we
walked a short distance to a neighboring village while the natives were
taking our carriage to pieces and bringing them over one at a time.
Although I am not one of those who allow themselves to be constantly
tortured by presentiments and omens, I could not rid myself of an
impression that some accident was going to happen to those who were
bringing over the carriage, and went back to see for myself what they
were doing. The wheels and top were over, and six natives were bringing
the body, which, though quite large, was very light. They had already
crossed the long span, and were coming on to the short one. “Is it
possible,” I said to myself, “that such a slight structure can hold
such a weight at such a great leverage? We shall soon see, for they are
rapidly coming to the middle of the second span.” At the next instant
there was a loud, sharp crack, like the report of a pistol. One of the
large rattans that went over the high branches of the camphor-trees and
supported the sides, had parted at one of its joints. The officer who
had charge of the bridge, and was standing by my side, seized me by the
shoulder in his fright. As soon as the rattan on one side broke, the
bridge gave a fearful lurch in the opposite direction, but the natives
all knew they must keep perfectly quiet and allow themselves to swing,
and, finally, when it had become still, they came on carefully and safely
reached the bank. The officer and I both believed that the moment one of
the rattans broke, the others, having of course to support a much greater
weight, would also break, and that we should hear a few more similar
crackings, and see all the natives fall headlong down nearly one hundred
and forty feet into the boiling torrent beneath, which is so rapid that
only a few days ago a buffalo, that was standing in the side of the
stream above the bridge, lost his footing and was carried down without
being able to reach either bank.
The carriage was soon put together again, and a good number of natives
detailed to haul us to the next village, and away we dashed along, and
that fearful place was soon hidden from our view. From this point to
Lumut our road extended over a hilly, undulating country, in which we
crossed a number of small streams on rafts of bamboo.
Lumut we found to be only an opziener’s station. A Malay teacher is also
employed here by the government, but the general appearance of the people
has changed little since they were accustomed to enjoy their cannibal
feasts, and this is true of all the natives we have seen this side of
Padang Sidempuan.
Most of the rajahs we have seen to-day have worn garments profusely
ornamented with gold. The headdress of each usually consisted of a short
turban so wound around the head that the two ends hung down in front,
and to these were fastened small, thin pieces of gold of a diamond or
circular form. They also wear short jackets which are usually trimmed
with a broad band of gold, though a few had silver instead. At the waist
is worn a belt on which is worn in front a large diamond-shaped ornament
four or five inches long, made of thin gold and ornamented with flowers
and scrolls. When at Rau, we visited a native who was famous for his
skill in manufacturing such golden ornaments. The leaves which he made on
them were remarkably well-proportioned, and the details very correctly
wrought in; and we admired his skill the more when he came to show us
his tools, which consisted of a flat stone for an anvil, a hammer, and
two or three large, blunt awls. Having beaten the gold out into thin
sheets of the desired form, he made the leaves rise in relief by forming
a corresponding groove on the opposite or inner side. In other cases he
had formed the gold into small wire, which was bent into helices for
ornaments to be placed on the front of such articles as buttons. At
Fort de Kock this business is carried on so extensively as to form an
important branch of the internal trade. The metal generally used there is
silver, the coin imported by the Dutch, for we have no reason to suppose
that that metal is found on this island. They make models of their
houses, of leaves, flowers, and all the principal fruits, which are sent
to Padang, where they find a ready demand among the foreigners, who send
them as presents to their friends in Europe.
We have just been honored by a call from the two rajahs of this little
village of Lumut. The bands of gold on their jackets were two inches
broad—an indication that the precious metal must be obtained in all this
region in very considerable quantities. Ever since entering the southern
end of the valley of Mandéling, I have been repeatedly informed that the
natives obtained gold by washing in their vicinity. At Fort Elout the
Resident showed me a nugget, as large as a pigeon’s egg, which a native
had just found in a neighboring stream where they had certainly been at
work for centuries. Washing seems to be almost the only mode adopted
by the natives for obtaining gold, and I heard of only one place where
they have ever attempted to take it from the rock. That place is in the
mountains west of Rau.
_March 7th._—Early this morning continued on for Siboga, with the
satisfactory feeling that this day would be the last of our long and
difficult journey. The road for ten miles led through a deep forest of
gigantic camphor-trees, _Dryobalanops camphora_, the tall, straight
trunks of which rose up like lofty columns. From their high branches hung
down hundreds of the cord-like roots of a parasite. The “camphor-oil”
is obtained from these trees by making a small cavity in the trunk
near the ground, and the fluid dripping into this cavity is the “oil.”
After a tree has been dead for a long time, it is cut down and split
up, and layers of pure camphor are found crystallized in thin plates in
the fissures, where the wood in dying has slightly split open. This is
known as “camphor barus,” from Barus, a village on the coast a short
distance to the north, because such crystallized camphor was formerly
exported from that place. The Chinese and Japanese, who suppose it
possesses the most extravagant healing properties, pay enormous prices
for it, while, except that it is somewhat purer, it is probably not any
better than that they make themselves by distillation from the wood of
the _Cinnamon camphora_. The camphor-tree is not only valuable for the
camphor it yields, but also for its timber, which is very straight and
free from knots and other imperfections. This is a favorite region for
tigers, and I have seen one or more skins at the house of each official.
A short time since, an elephant came down here from the interior, but
the natives failed to secure so valuable a prize. Herds of them are said
to frequently appear in the Silindong plateau. The tusks of one taken
here lately were sold for one thousand guilders (four hundred Mexican
dollars). On our way we passed eight or ten houses of Battas, who had
come down from the mountains. They were placed on posts like those we
have been seeing; but the gable-ends, instead of being perpendicular,
slant outward, so that the ridge-pole, which comes up high at each end,
is much longer than the floor. Over a number of these streams we found
long suspension bridges, but none were high as that over the Batang
Taroh. Ascending to the crest of a mountain-range, some six or eight
hundred feet in height, we found before us a grand view of the high
mountains, stretching in a semicircle around the bay of Tapanuli; of the
low land at their feet, and of a part of the bay itself. A steep, zigzag
way took us down nearly to the level of the sea, and led us over the low
land to the village of Siboga, a small Dutch settlement and military
station at the head of the bay.
CHAPTER XIV.
RETURN TO PADANG.
Back of Siboga rises a high peak, and from its summit I was confident
that I could enjoy a magnificent view over the whole bay. A native
engaged to show me the way to its top, but after we had travelled a
long distance I found he had even less idea of how we were to reach the
desired spot than I had myself. Other natives gave me directions, but
that day was too far spent for such a journey, and I therefore made my
pretended guide travel with me the next day for nothing, as a punishment
for his lying. Following up a stream back of the settlement, we took a
minor valley to the south, and discovered a narrow path by which the
Battas sometimes come down from the interior. This led up through a
thick forest to a large place where that people had partially cleared
the land by burning down the trees. In the irregular spaces between the
stumps they had planted pine-apples and yams, which were both thriving
remarkably well. When we had gained that place I found the desired peak
still above us. My attendant now begged me not to attempt to reach it,
less, as I afterward learned, from his fear of the Battas than from his
fear of the evil spirit who is said to inhabit that high point, and
whom he believed we should certainly meet. But we gained the summit
without meeting any unearthly intruders. There I found the whole bay
and its shores spread out before me like a map. The broad coral banks
bordering several of the points and islands were of a light-clay color
in the dark-blue water, which was only here and there ruffled by the
light morning breezes then moving over its limpid surface. This bay is
said to closely resemble the bay of Rio Janeiro by those who have seen
both. To the north it has a long arm, but on the south its boundary is
sharply defined when viewed from the lofty point where I stood, while off
the mouth of the bay was the high island of Mensalla, its hills making a
sharply-serrated line against the sky.
On another occasion I made an excursion in a boat some six miles toward
the northern end of the bay to look at some layers of coal. Leaving the
boat we went a short distance up the side of a range of hills on the
northwest side of the bay, and, crossing two small ridges that ran down
to the shore, found the bed of a brook, which at that season was dry. In
one of its sides were seen the layers of coal, approximately parallel
to the surface of the hills, and resting on clay schists, to which they
appeared perfectly conformable. Crossing another low ridge, we came down
into the bed of another brook, where the same strata were again seen.
The coal here is very impure, except near the middle layers, and appears
to be of little commercial value; neither is the prospect flattering
for finding other strata of a better quality beneath those seen at the
surface. Although I looked carefully, I could detect no leaves or stems
of plants, or any organic remains, by which the geological age of this
coal could be determined; but the position of the layers parallel to
the surface, or last folding the strata have undergone, agrees with its
mineral characters in placing it, like the other coals of Sumatra, in the
tertiary period.
As I came to Siboga from the south, over the low land around the bay, I
noticed on my right a high, perpendicular cliff composed of recent strata
that were horizontal, and which must have been deposited beneath the
ocean, because the opposite side of the valley is open to the sea, with
only hills at intervals along its shore, and even their forms indicate
that they are of the same sedimentary origin. This cliff the natives
call in Malay the _Ruma Satan_, or “the Devil’s Dwelling.” It was on
the western declivity of the mountains which sweep round parallel to
the shore. The Resident gave orders to the rajah of Sibuluan, a native
village about four miles south of Siboga, to go with me and show me the
way. When I came to that village I found the rajah was a young man, and
evidently afraid of such an undertaking. In the first place, we must
be exposed to the _cannibal_ Battas, and even travel among them; but
I assured him that that, so far from making me desire to turn back,
only made me the more anxious to go on, for I liked to see all kinds of
people, and I had no fear that the Battas would eat me. Finding he could
not induce me to give up what he evidently considered a most venturesome
journey, he summoned the largest man in his _kampong_ and armed him
with a long, rusty sword. Several others were also ordered to accompany
us, though the rajah seemed to rely chiefly on the brave who carried
his arms. As for me, the only weapon with which I was provided was a
pocket-knife, but I think now that I underrated the danger then, and that
if I were going on the same excursion again I should take a revolver at
least. From Sibuluan our course was along a large stream. Soon we came
to a Batta village, where a capala and two men joined us, to act as our
guides and also to increase my body-guard, which, even then, would have
been far from formidable if any real danger had presented itself, and
they had had a good opportunity to run away. The rough path that we were
following came to a stream which I was compelled to wade, and found so
deep that it rose to my arms. Besides, the current was so strong that I
was glad to have the assistance of a native on either side. The sand and
sharp gravel were thus washed into my shoes; and as I learned we should
have to cross that stream some ten times, for such a road do these wild
cannibals use, I quickly prepared myself to go barefoot.
We had now come into a deep gorge; the sun poured down his most scorching
rays; the rocks and sand were so hot that it seemed they would blister
my feet, and even the Malays complained. The next ford was just above a
series of rapids. I was clad in a suit of blue flannel, which absorbed
so much water that I found I was in great danger of being swept away by
the torrent. I concluded that I had better adopt the costumes of the
Malays. The rajah wore a new pair of _chilanas_, of the prevailing
pattern, made in Achin. They are short-legged trousers, fastened at the
waist and reaching nearly to the knee. I proposed that we exchange, but
he declined to do that, and insisted on my keeping possession of my own
habit, and using the article I desired, and in that costume I travelled
till I came back to his village. In one place the torrent rolled up
against a high precipice, but there chanced to be a horizontal crevice
some distance above the water, and there, where scarcely a monkey would
think of venturing, we were obliged to crawl along as best we could. This
danger passed, we had to cross back and forth over rapids by leaping from
rock to rock, some of which were above and some just beneath the surface
of the boiling torrent. Then we came to an area of high grass. The tall
native, in accordance with the rajah’s orders, marching ahead with the
sword grasped in his right hand, and its naked, rusty blade resting on
his bare arm, was, indeed, the personification of bravery; but, as I
had little faith in the necessity of such a doughty warrior, I began to
ridicule his appearance to the rajah, when suddenly our brave gave an
ugly nasal grunt, and, brandishing his sword high over his head, brought
it down with a heavy cutting stroke on some object in front of him. “What
is the matter?” every one asked. “A great snake was crossing the road!”
an agreeable thing to hear, considering that I had no clothing on below
the knee; but, while he was flourishing his weapon and getting ready to
strike, the reptile had glided away in the tall grass.
The rajah now showed me a spot by the wayside where a Batta, who had
been guilty of adultery, had been killed and eaten by his fellows not
long before. All the others in the party confirmed the story in every
particular. A little farther on was a Batta village consisting of four
houses on high posts. One was small and stood apart from the others,
and in that they stored their rice. To prevent the mice from reaching
it, large projecting pieces of planks were placed on the tops of the
posts. The walls, floor, and gable-ends of the dwelling-houses were made
of plank, and the roof was a thatching of grass or straw. Having some
curiosity to see the internal arrangements of a Batta house, I climbed
up a ladder of five or six rounds at one end of the building, and took
a place assigned me on the floor. There was no bench nor stool, nor
any thing of the kind, so, according to Batta etiquette, I rested my
back against the side of the house. The whole building was in one room,
without a shadow of any partition. From the number of the inmates, I saw
that probably four families dwelt in this single apartment, and this
suspicion was strengthened when I noticed a rude fire-place, without any
chimney, in each corner. On inquiry, I was informed that my conjectures
were true. “But how do you know,” I asked, “what part belongs to one
family and what to another? Where is your partition?” One of them, who
could understand a little Malay, gravely rose, and, coming to my side in
answer to my query, pointed to a _crack_ in the floor.
From this place the rajah had said I could obtain an unobstructed view
of the cliff, but when we arrived there a neighboring hill completely hid
it from view. He then excused himself by saying that he had never been
there before; and, when I informed him that I must go on until I could
see it perfectly, the tears actually stood in his eyes from fear, he was
so certain we should meet with the Evil Spirit. One of the Battas, who
knew the way, offered to be my guide, and I released the rajah from the
Resident’s order to accompany me as far as I wished to go, and continued
on, for I had no fear of meeting Apollyon in the next valley.
Two sections at right angles showed that the strata of this cliff were
nearly horizontal, and composed of a light-colored clay, containing many
coarse crystals of quartz. These materials had recently been formed by
the decomposition of the adjoining syenitic rocks, and had been arranged
into layers by the action of water. The height to the top of the cliff
from the bed of the brook I judge to be eight hundred feet, and that
is at least fifty feet above the level of the sea, making the whole
elevation which this part of the island has recently undergone to be
eight hundred and fifty feet.
When we returned to the Batta village, the rajah seemed greatly relieved,
for he declared that he believed he should never see us again. Such
are the superstitious terrors that constantly torture the imaginations
of these ignorant people. On our return, a heavy rain set in, which
completely drenched us and swelled the brook. Again and again the
strong current came near sweeping us off the slippery rocks, while the
lightning flashed in broad sheets and the thunders echoed and reëchoed
in the deep ravine. The Malays who formed my guard then began to discuss
in an undertone, without thinking that I overheard them, whether the
Evil Spirit would not, after all, bring some dreadful misfortune on the
white gentleman for daring to visit his abode. One suggested that the
Battas might yet capture him on one of his dangerous excursions. Another
said he would probably have an attack of fever (which I confess I myself
considered probable), for after such exposure to the hot sun, and such
a drenching, any man, even a native, is likely to find a keen burning
in his veins the next morning. The rajah, however, replied to these
unfavorable suggestions, that Tuan Allah would take pity on him, and not
allow even the rain to harm him, for he was a good man, and it could not
be very wicked in any one simply to go and see where the Evil Spirit
lived. My feet and ankles had become so bruised from treading on the
rough rocks in the bed of the torrent, and so cut from walking through
the tall grass, that as soon as I reached my room I went to bed, and did
not rise for thirty hours; but the rajah’s predictions proved true, and I
escaped without even an attack of fever.
A few days afterward, a rajah came from his village on the coast near
Barus, or Barros, a small port about thirty miles toward Achin. He said
that some neighboring Battas had taken two of his men, and had already
_eaten_ one of them, and were keeping the other to eat him also, and that
he came to Siboga to ask the Resident that soldiers be sent to compel
those cannibals to deliver up their intended victim. Such a request, of
course, it was not possible for the Resident to grant, however much he
might wish to do so, for the whole country is extremely mountainous, and
covered with a dense, impenetrable forest; and the moment these Battas
have finished their attack, they instantly retreat into the interior
without allowing the Dutch the possibility of punishing them, except by
subjugating the entire country, and that would be a work of the greatest
difficulty, and one that would require much time, and money, and bring
no adequate recompense. It is such a common thing for the foreigners
here at Siboga to hear that one or more natives have been eaten in the
neighboring mountains, that no one thinks of speaking of it as any thing
strange or even incredible. In the Silindong valley two missionaries have
been living for some time, trying to educate and convert the Battas. I
met one of them with his bride at the governor’s residence when I arrived
at Padang. The lady had arrived but a short time before from Holland,
and they were just then starting on their wedding tour to their future
residence among the cannibals. The other missionary is now at this
village, and I have just been present at his wedding. His wife is a young
lady of not more than seventeen summers, and what is stranger than all
in both of these matches is, that neither of these gentlemen had seen
his betrothed before she arrived, except in a miniature, which of course
might or might not be a good likeness. It may relieve the curious for me
to state that all parties are entirely satisfied.
This missionary tells me that he knew of a Batta who had been guilty of
stealing an article of only very little value according to their ideas of
wealth, yet he was seized, his arms extended at full length and fastened
to a bamboo, a sharpened prop placed under his chin, so that he could
not move his head, and in this condition he was bound fast to a tree.
The knife was then handed to the native who had lost the article, and
he was ordered to step forward and cut out of the living man what piece
he preferred. This he did promptly; the rajah took the second choice,
and then the people finished the cold-blooded butchery, and thus their
victim died. This revolting feast, he assures me, took place but a short
distance from the village where he resides. How any lady can think of
going to live among such dangers I cannot conceive; but Madame Pfeiffer,
according to her account, went considerably farther than the place where
these missionaries reside, and even reached the northern end of the
Silindong valley; but I am assured here, and she states nearly the same
thing in her book, that the Battas only permitted her to return because
they regarded her as a witch. Three years after she performed that
journey, three French priests were butchered and devoured, before they
had come near to the farthest place she had reached alone. No Malay would
have ever escaped who had gone so far into their country.
[Illustration: A NATIVE OF THE ISLAND OF NIAS.]
The parts that are esteemed the greatest delicacies are the palms of
the hands, and, after them, the eyes. As soon as a piece is cut out it
is dipped, still warm and steaming, in _sambal_, a common condiment,
composed of red or Chili peppers and a few grains of coarse salt, ground
up between two flat stones. Formerly it appears to have been the custom
to broil the human flesh, for Mr. Marsden states that, in December,
1780, a native of Nias, who stabbed a Batta at Batang Taroh, the river
I crossed on the suspension bridge, was seized at six one morning, and,
without any judicial process, was tied to a stake, cut in pieces with
the utmost eagerness while yet alive, and eaten upon the spot, partly
_broiled_, but mostly raw.
It is probably on account of the difficulty of penetrating their inland
and elevated country, and from the natural ferocity of these people, that
the Mohammedan priests of the neighboring country of Menangkabau have
failed to induce the Battas to adopt their religion. The first white men
who went up far into the interior appear to have been Mr. Ward and Mr.
Burton, two English missionaries, about the year 1820.
They started from this place, and reached the Silindong valley. Their
object was to reach Lake Toba, but they were only obliged to return on
account of their becoming seriously ill. The kindly manner in which they
were treated is very different from the reception all other white men
have received at the hands of these cannibals.
It appears that the next white men who went up into the interior of this
country were two American missionaries, Henry Lyman and Samuel Munson,
graduates of Amherst College, and natives of Massachusetts. In 1835 they
sailed from Batavia to Padang, and thence came directly up the coast to
the Batu Islands, Pulo Nias, and this bay. From this village they went up
into the interior toward Lake Toba, and when about fifty miles distant
they were attacked and killed by the Battas.
Considering the friendly reception given the former missionaries, I do
not think this journey promised such an unhappy issue.
The Battas certainly do not eat human flesh for lack of food, nor wholly
to satisfy revenge, but chiefly to gratify their appetites. The governor
at Padang informed me that these people gave him this odd origin of their
cannibal customs: Many years ago one of their rajahs committed a great
crime, and it was evident to all that, exalted as he was, he ought to be
punished, but no one would take upon himself the responsibility to punish
a prince. After much consultation they at last hit upon the happy idea
that he should be put to death, but they would all eat a piece of his
body, and in this way all would share in punishing him. During this feast
each one, to his astonishment, found the portion assigned him a most
palatable morsel, and they all agreed that whenever another convict was
to be put to death they would allow themselves to gratify their appetites
again in the same manner, and thus arose the custom which has been handed
down from one generation to another till the present day.
For many years after the discovery of a passage to the East by sea,
pepper formed the principal article of trade, and even Vasco de Gama,
who made this great discovery, appears not to have been satisfied with
the results and prospects of his voyage until he had fully loaded his
ships with it. At that time it was worth about seventy-five cents per
pound in Europe. For a century afterward, so completely was this trade
monopolized by the Portuguese and Dutch Governments, that it constantly
commanded even a higher price. Except salt, perhaps no other condiment is
so universally used; and yet the natives, who cultivate it for the rest
of the world, never use it themselves, just as we have already seen is
the case with those Malays who raise cloves and nutmeg and mace.
It was used by the Romans more than two thousand years ago; and Pliny
is surprised that people should go all the way to India to obtain a
condiment that had nothing to recommend it but its pungency (_amaritudo_).
In the early part of this century a very considerable trade in pepper
was carried on by American vessels, chiefly from Boston and Salem, with
this island, especially between this place and Achin, a region generally
known to our sailors as “The Pepper Coast.” Serious troubles often arose
between their crews and the natives, and in 1830 nearly all the officers
and crew of the ship Friendship, of Salem, were overpowered and murdered
but a little farther north.
The region where the pepper-vine is now mostly cultivated is south of
Palembang, on the banks of the river Ogan. In the archipelago it does
not grow wild, and is only cultivated on Sumatra and a few of the
Philippines. Its Javanese name, _maricha_, is pure Sanscrit, and this as
well as its distribution indicates that it was introduced from India.
Here, at Tapanuli, are many natives of Achin, and their darker color and
greater stature at once mark them as another people, and indicate that
they are the descendants of natives of India and Malays, and this is
completely in accordance with what we know of their history. The village
of Achin is situated at the northwestern extremity of the island, on a
small river two miles from where it empties into a bay, which is well
sheltered by islands from the wind and sea in all seasons. On account of
its good roadstead, and its being the nearest point to India in the whole
archipelago, Achin appears to have been, for ages before the arrival of
Europeans, the great mart for the Telinga traders from the eastern shores
of the southern part of India.
There they brought cotton fabrics, salt, and opium, and obtained in
exchange tin, gold, pepper, cloves, nutmegs, mace, betel-nuts, sulphur,
camphor, and benzoin. When the Portuguese first arrived, in 1509, under
Sequiera, at the neighboring city of Pedir, Achin was tributary to that
city, but in 1521 an energetic prince came to the throne; in eighteen
years he had conquered all the neighboring kingdoms, and his city
became the great commercial emporium for all the western part of the
archipelago. This prosperity it continued to enjoy for a hundred and
fifty years. Its fame even reached Europe, and the proudest sovereigns
were anxious to obtain the favor of the King of Achin, and make
commercial treaties with him.
Here the English first appeared, in 1602, under Sir James Lancaster,
who commanded a squadron of four ships, and was furnished with a letter
from Queen Elizabeth[53] to the king, who had been a fisherman, and had
only obtained the throne by murdering the prince who would have lawfully
inherited it. Such was the humble appearance of the English in the East
two centuries and a half ago.
Little probably could even the far-seeing queen herself have imagined
that one of her successors should reign over the hundred and fifty
millions of Hindustan; that her Eastern merchants would soon give up
the trade in pepper with Sumatra, and in spices with the Moluccas,
for the far more lucrative commerce in silks and teas with China, and
especially that to the then unexplored continent of Australia citizens
of her own kingdom would migrate, and there lay the foundation of the
most enterprising, flourishing, and, what promises to be within the next
century, the greatest power in all the East.
When we started from Padang it was planned that a man-of-war should come
to Siboga and take us back; but we have been obliged to wait here ten
days, and now she has come only to take the Resident, and go to Singkel,
the farthest point up the coast held by the Dutch.
The captain of the steamer on which I came from Surabaya to Batavia,
however, has chanced to arrive in a little prau, in which he has been
visiting several places along the coast for the purpose of ascertaining
the facilities for obtaining timber to be used in constructing some
government buildings at Padang. He is now on the point of sailing to
the Batu Islands and thence to Padang, and proposes that I share the
dangers of such a voyage in his little boat, an offer which I gladly
accept, but Mr. Terville, the inspector, prefers to wait for the return
of the steamship. Our boat is about thirty feet long by eight broad,
and instead of being covered by a flat deck, has a steep roof, which
descends on either side to the railing like the Javanese junks. Aft,
where the tiller sweeps round, the deck is horizontal, but, as the stern
is nearly as sharply-pointed as the bow, there is little room to sit. We
have one mast, with a large, tattered mainsail and two jibs.
At midnight there was a little breeze from the land and we weighed anchor
and stood to sea. In the morning we found ourselves becalmed about five
miles from Tunkus Nasi, a sharp, conical island, which forms the southern
extremity of Tapanuli Bay. Somewhat more to the west was the high
plateau-like island of Mensalla. On its northwestern shore there is a
waterfall, where the water leaps down some two hundred feet directly into
the sea. It is so high that when I was at Siboga, people who have been at
Barus assured me they have been able to see it when the sun shone on it,
though the distance is some sixteen miles. At sunset we were so far down
the coast that it was time for us to change our course to the south if we
would visit the Batu Islands.
Our Malay captain was anxious that we should keep on our course to
Padang; my friend said he cared very little to go to those islands, and
when I looked at the ragged mainsail and realized that it would probably
disappear in a moment if a heavy squall chanced to strike us, I gave my
vote to continue on near the shore. Besides, the sky looked threatening,
and we were evidently in a miserable vessel to live out a fresh gale
and a heavy sea. Near midnight I was aroused by our boat pitching and
rolling heavily, and the captain shouting out to his Malay crew all
sorts of orders in rapid succession. Soon he came down to inform us, in
the most trembling tones, it was so dark that it was not possible to
see any thing, and in a few moments we should all be drowned. I hurried
on deck, more from a habit of always wishing to see what is going to
happen, than from fear. A thick, black mass of clouds was rolling up from
seaward and spreading over the sky with alarming rapidity. The mainsail
was taken in and only the main-jib was set, when the first gust struck
us. Immediately, as if rolled over by a gigantic hand, our boat careened
until her lee-rail was completely under water, and I thought, for a
moment, she would certainly capsize. The main-jib burst into ribbons,
and at last we righted. The flying-jib was then set, when she came near
upsetting again. We were then only about a mile from the land, and the
wind was directly on shore, so that it was impossible to save ourselves
by running before it. Nothing could be done to keep off the rocks
excepting to heave-to and trust to our anchor. All the cable possible
was paid out, and yet the tempest continued to drive us toward the land.
Another gust came, and as the lightning flashed I could see that we were
not half a mile from a high island with precipitous shores, encircled by
a coral reef, where the heavy swell rolling directly in from the ocean
was breaking apparently twelve or fifteen feet high. I knew that at
the rate we were drifting we must strike on it in fifteen minutes, and
that to a certainty our frail boat would be broken into fragments in an
instant. There was no possibility of escape, for the most expert swimmer
could not possibly have saved himself in such a frightful surf. I coolly
concluded that that would be the last of my dangers and resigned myself
to my fate. Soon, however, the horizon became somewhat clearer, and,
better than all, our anchor had evidently struck into good holding-ground
and was keeping us from drifting. In an hour more the tempest was over,
though the heavy swell continued to roll in as before. In the morning
we found ourselves not far from Ayar Bangis, and put in there while our
crew mended the sails. This is the port to which the coffee raised in
the valley of Rau, in the interior, is brought down, to be hence shipped
in praus to Padang, where it is placed in the government storehouse and
sold at auction four times a year, viz., in March, June, September, and
December. Natal, about twenty-five miles north of here, is the chief port
to which is brought the valuable coffee raised in the fertile valley of
Mandéling, of which Fort Elout is the capital. All this part of Sumatra
abounds in very valuable timber, and the Resident here showed us some
magnificent logs which his natives are sawing into planks. If we had such
timber in our country we would use it for the nicest kinds of veneering.
As the storm continued, we remained for a day among the islands off Ayar
Bangis. They are mostly low, and nearly all composed of coral rock. The
natives live on fish and the cocoa-nuts which they raise in great numbers
on these low coral islands.
The chief value of the cocoa-nuts here, as in the eastern part of the
archipelago, is for the oil they yield; considerable quantities of that
article are brought to Padang from these, the Batu and other islands off
this part of Sumatra.
At sunset, next day, we were near Pasaman, a small place on the coast,
west of the lofty peak of Ophir. Thousands of small, fleecy cumuli at
that time covered the sky, and, as the sun neared the horizon, all these
clouds were changed into the brightest gold. Indeed, the whole sky seemed
literally paved with small blocks of gold, most of which were bordered
with a narrow margin of purple. One end of this great arch seemed to rest
on the distant horizon, the other on the crests of the lofty mountains
east of us, but especially on the top of Mount Ophir, whose western side
was lighted up with tints of gold and purple of surpassing richness.
All this glorious display in the heavens was so perfectly repeated, even
to the minutest details, on the calm sea, that it was difficult to tell
which to admire more, the sky or the ocean. Of all the rich sunsets I
enjoyed while in the tropical East, this was by far the most magnificent,
and never did I imagine it was possible for any one, while here on earth,
to behold a scene that would so nearly approach the splendor of the
Celestial City, described in the apocalyptic vision as being “of pure
gold, like unto clear glass.”
The next morning we were near Tiku, a village at the mouth of the small
stream that flows out from the lake in the bottom of the great crater of
Manindyu. The circular mountain-range which forms the walls of this great
crater was clearly seen, and the deep rent through it, by which the
waters collected in the bottom of the crater find a passage out to the
sea. Twenty miles south of Tiku is Priaman, the place to which most of
the coffee from the Menangkabau, or, as the Dutch prefer to call it, the
Padang plateau, is brought to be sent in praus to Padang. On the evening
of the fifth day the Apenburg, on Ape Hill, which marks the approach to
Padang, and the shipping in the road, near by, were in full view. One
large and very fine ship was flying the American ensign. In a few hours
more I found myself again in the palace of the governor, and thus the
expedition through the land of cannibals was safely over.
The American ship was owned by one of the largest and most enterprising
firms in Boston. Her captain and his lady were on shore, and I soon
hurried to their boarding-place; and, at once, we almost felt ourselves
back in New England, and forgot that we were far from America, in a land
of palms, and of one long, endless summer.
The chief article exported from this place to the United States is
coffee. It is a very variable crop. During the last nine years it has
varied in quantity from six thousand piculs (eight hundred thousand
pounds) in 1857, to seventy-two thousand piculs (nine million six hundred
thousand pounds) in 1858.[54]
The king’s birthday—the great national holiday with the Dutch—now
occurred. In the morning there was a grand parade on the lawn, in
front of the governor’s palace, of all the European and native troops,
numbering in all some four or five thousand, but many others are
stationed in small bodies at various places in the interior. They were
organized in battalions on the French plan, and their appearance and
manœuvring were very creditable. There was a small mounted force, much
like our flying artillery. This, I was informed, proved to be one of the
most efficient parts of the army in their contests with the natives—the
paths in the interior always being so narrow and so extremely uneven that
only very light cannon can be brought into use. After the parade the
governor, as the representative of the king, received the congratulations
of all the officials in that region. The day ended with a grand ball, to
which, I may add, the mestizo belles were not only invited, but came, and
took as prominent a part as the ladies who had the envied fortune to be
born in Europe. At every little post the highest official receives the
congratulations of his brother-officers in similar manner, and all are
required to appear in full dress with cocked hats.
After having served in our own gigantic war, where a sash, a pair
of small shoulder-straps, a few bright buttons, and a gold cord
round a slouched hat, were sufficient to indicate the rank of even a
major-general, I was quite dazzled by the brilliant uniforms of even
the most petty officials in the Dutch service. The army officers wear
epaulets, and broad bands of gold lace on the pantaloons, collars, and
cuffs. The backs of their coats are figured over in the most extravagant
fashion. The civil officers present a similar gaudy display in silver.
The object of all this is to impress the natives with a high idea of the
wealth and power of the Dutch Government, and of the great dignity of
those who are honored by being selected to administer it; and exactly
these ideas are conveyed to the minds of the natives by such displays.
Their own rajahs and princes never appear in public without making the
most dazzling show possible; and the mass of the people, therefore, have
come to think that their rulers must be weak and poor, and even more
worthy of their contempt than their respect, if they do not make a most
imposing appearance on all great occasions.
CHAPTER XV.
THE PADANG PLATEAU.
As I had seen only a small portion of the _Padangsche Bovenlanden_, or
Padang plateau, I again set off for the interior, following the same
route that I had taken before, namely, north, over low lands to the left
of the Barizan chain. As the governor’s “American” had not arrived from
Saboga, he kindly borrowed for me a “bendy,” that is, a small, heavy,
two-wheeled chaise. He gave me an order allowing me to use two horses if
I pleased; and, by the time I had travelled twenty miles, I was glad to
avail myself of the privilege. A bamboo was fastened across the thills
and allowed to project four or five feet on one side, and the additional
horse was then placed beside the other, the usual mode of driving tandem
in this country. To complete the odd style of harnessing these half-tamed
steeds, the natives arranged the reins so that I was obliged to hold two
in the left hand and but one in the right. The result was, that the outer
horse was as loose as those harnessed in a similar manner in Russia, and
altogether beyond my control. Whenever we came to a slight descent, he
would always spring into a full gallop, and the one in the thills would
follow his example. Then came a few severe shocks against the large
stones in the road, and we found ourselves at the bottom of the hill One
time the shocks were so severe that my footman, who had a seat behind,
and a good place to hold on with both hands, was missing when I reached
the bottom of the hill, and, on looking round, I found the bendy had
flung him off some distance upon the rough stones. When we reached Kayu
Tanam, thick clouds, that had been gathering on the adjacent lofty peaks,
rolled down and poured out a perfect flood of rain. The drops were so
large, and fell with such momentum, that it seemed like standing under
a heavy shower-bath. The lightning gleamed as it only does in tropical
lands, and the thunder roared as if the great Barizan chain on my right
was splitting open again, and forming another immense “cleft.” I was
wondering that my horses were not frightened amid such terrific peals,
when suddenly a piercing flash dazzled my eyes, and the same instant came
a sharp crash like the sudden breaking of a thousand heavy timbers, and
for a moment I was quite bewildered. Both horses reared until they nearly
stood on their hind feet, and then plunged forward in a perfect state of
fright. The road there chanced to be straight, and I let them go at the
top of their speed for a mile or two, when they again became somewhat
manageable, and in this way we flew along high up the side of a great
ravine and came into the deep cleft. Ascending the cañon, we came to
Padang Panjang, and the next day to Fort de Kock. The waterfall opposite
where we entered the cleft was considerably swollen by the heavy rains,
and a small stream, separate from the main fall, was shooting over the
high edge of the precipice. On a steep declivity near by, a small stream
had coursed part way down, completely hidden from view by the thick sheet
of vegetation that covered the rocks, until, striking some obstacle, it
flew off into the air in a great jet, which appeared to come out of the
solid rock.
From Fort de Kock my course was nearly west a day’s ride to Paya Kombo.
At first the road led over a level or slightly undulating land which
abounds in villages, and is highly cultivated. A number of small streams
that rise on the northern flanks of the great Mérapi, flow northward
across the plain, and then turn to the east and join to form the Batang
Agam. Nine miles out we came to a range of jagged hills, the scanty
soil on their sides only serving to make their sharp, projecting rocks
more conspicuous and unsightly, like a tattered garment thrown over a
skeleton. This rock I found to be a highly crystalline marble of a blue
color, completely split up by joints and fissures into cubical blocks,
whose outer surfaces have everywhere become greatly roughened by the
action of rain and heat. Subsequently I had an opportunity of learning
that it makes a very valuable kind of white lime.
We presently found ourselves descending into a beautiful valley, through
which the Agam, already a considerable stream, courses rapidly along.
The road immediately approached its banks, crossed it over a high stone
bridge, and then ran along a narrow terrace cut in a high precipice of
the limestone cliff, whose feet were bathed in the small river. On the
level land and hills in this region, the only rock which outcropped
was a red sandstone, composed of strata that have been considerably
plicated in many places; but they are evidently of a recent formation
and unconformable to the older crystalline limestone on which they rest.
Passing the Mérapi, we rode down a gradually descending plain that lies
on the north of Mount Sago.
Early in the afternoon we came to Paya Kombo, where an assistant
resident is stationed. His residence is the finest building I have seen
in Sumatra. He greeted me kindly, and introduced me to the assistant
resident stationed at Fort Van der Capellan, the next chief place I was
designing to visit. Thus I found a pleasant companion, and one who could
explain the peculiarities of the country I should see during the next two
days.
_April 2d._—Rode from Paya Kombo to Bua with the Resident of this
district. A short distance from Paya Kombo we crossed a large and very
beautiful stone bridge that had been planned and superintended by a
government official who had never received the slightest training in
architecture. Our course was nearly southwest, and the road slowly
ascended, for we were really coming upon the flanks of Mount Sago. It
then changes to the east, and again to the south, as we made a circuit
round the eastern side of the mountain. This part of the road was
built on a steep acclivity, that descended to the deep valley of the
Sinamu on our left. The higher hills on the opposite side of the valley
are probably of limestone. When we came round to the south side of
Mount Sago, before us lay the charming valley of Bua, perhaps the most
beautiful valley in Sumatra. On our left was a range of hundreds of sharp
peaks, a continuation of the limestone chain noticed yesterday between
Fort de Kock and Paya Kombo. Near their feet is the Sinamu, now a small
river, flowing away to the southeast. At Paya Kombo this stream flows
to the southeast, which is its general course for about twenty-five
miles after it passes Mount Sago; it then changes to the east, and is
known as the Indragiri. It is a fair sample of the tortuous course of
all the streams in the mountainous parts of Sumatra. They wind to and
fro so abruptly, that sometimes the traveller comes to the banks of a
river without suspecting for a moment that it is the very one which he
was following in a wholly different direction the day before. The only
way it is possible to realize the irregularities of these streams, is
to examine a map of this region on a very large scale. On our left was
another high range walling in the narrow valley, the bottom of which
curves gradually upward as it approaches either side. The level parts of
the valley are all changed into beautiful sawas, which are now filled
with young rice-blades of a bright green. Riding down the valley for four
or five miles, we came to the _controleur’s_ house at Bua. It is situated
near the west side of the valley, facing the north. Thick clouds, that
had been hiding the top of Mount Sago, now vanished into pure air, and
the old crater-walls came grandly into view. They are so deeply notched
on the southern side, that I could look directly up into the crater from
the _controleur’s_ residence in the valley. The sharp limestone needles,
on the east side of the valley, also were more distinct. They were only
three miles away, and yet I counted no less than twenty separate peaks
in a straight line, at right angles with my vision, in fifteen degrees
along the horizon. Looking up from the village of Bua toward Mount Sago,
the view has a charming ideal effect—such as one might expect to see in
a composite painting, where wonderful details of scenery from different
localities are harmoniously combined.
_April 3d._—At 6 A. M. went with the _controleur_ and rajah, and about
forty natives, to a large cave west of Bua, in the limestone range that
forms the western boundary of the valley. Coming to a small stream
that flows out of this chain, we followed its course upward, until we
found it issuing from beneath a high arch that opened into a large
cavern. Here the strata of the limestone were more distinct than I have
seen elsewhere. They have a dip of about 20° west, their strike being
northwest and southeast, the general direction of the chain. Immediately
within the arch the roof of the cave rose into a dome, apparently more
than one hundred feet high at the centre. Flocks of swallows had made
this their building-place, and, disturbed by the smoke of our torches,
they made the cavern resound with their sharp chirping. On the walls
were many stalactites that closely resembled the luxuriant orchids and
parasites of tropical forests, as if Nature were here reproducing in
stone the wonders of the vegetable kingdom. After crossing the stream two
or three times we came to the end of this grand hall, and climbed up what
appeared to be a waterfall, but was, in reality, solid stone. The water,
flowing over the steep ledge of limestone, had in time deposited over its
rough edges an incrustation, which, of course, took exactly the form of
the running water that made it.
Having reached the top of this petrified fall, we passed on our hands and
knees through a small hole, and found ourselves in another large hall of
an elliptical form. At the farther end was a small rivulet gurgling its
way among the large rocks that covered the floor of the cave. I had been
told that this water was so hot that a man could not hold his hand in it;
but, on trying it with the thermometer, I found the mercury only rose to
92° Fahrenheit, not quite up to blood-heat (98°). It abounded, however,
in small fish about four inches long, several of which the natives caught
with their hands. They all had eyes that were apparently well formed,
though this place seemed to us absolutely cut off from daylight.
Returning to the outer cave, we proceeded a short way by wading in the
bed of the stream, but the cavern now diminished into an irregular
tunnel, and the water that flowed through it was too deep for us to go
on in safety, and we were therefore obliged to return. The _controleur_
informed me that one of his predecessors had gone on and come out again
in the plain near Fort Van der Capellen, so that the cave is really
a tunnel, which passes completely through the whole chain; and the
distance from its mouth at this place to the opening at its opposite end
must be at least five miles in an air line. While the natives were in the
water, and each held a blazing torch, I ordered them to range themselves
a few feet apart in a long line. The light reflected from the changing
surface of the flowing stream beneath, and the wide irregular rocks
and stalactites above, and the dark half-naked bodies of the natives
themselves, made it appear as if I had come into the abode of evil
demons; and this delusion became complete when one shouted, and the rest
joining in prolonged their cry into a wild yell that echoed and reëchoed
again and again, coming back to us like the answering, remorseful shriek
of hundreds of evil spirits that were imprisoned forever deep within the
bowels of the mountain.
In the inner part of the larger cave I was directed to look up in a
certain direction, when soon a long, narrow band of yellow light gleamed
from an opening, and, darting into the cave, partially lighted up some
of the long stalactites that hung from the roof. Then came two bright
flames waving to and fro, which showed me the forms of two natives who
had climbed up some other chamber, and had come out through an aperture
far above us into the apartment where we were standing.
The Resident was travelling to inspect the coffee-gardens, and would
go back up the valley to Suka Rajah, the “Rajah’s Delight,” a large
coffee-garden in the ravine that leads up into the old crater of the
Sago. I therefore hired coolies to haul my bendy over the mountain to
Fort Van der Capellen, and thence to Padang Panjang, while I accompanied
the Resident and _controleur_ on horseback. After we had rested awhile
at a small summer-house, I continued on foot up the ravine as far as
coffee-trees are planted, a coolie from the valley following me, and
continually begging me to return, for fear we might be attacked by a
tiger. I told him to go back and let me proceed alone; but we were
already so far away that he did not dare to leave me. The whole interior
of this crater is covered with a dense forest, in which there are many
trees, showing that it has constantly remained inactive for many years,
and this is corroborated by what we know of the history of this part of
Menangkabau; for, when “the volcano” is spoken of, it is probable that
the Mérapi is meant, and not the Sago, on the one side, nor the Singalang
on the other.
As I could not reach to the bottom of the crater by following up the
ravine, I determined to try to ascend one of the ridges on its sides,
and possibly look down into it from an elevated point. That part of the
steep mountain-side was covered with tall grass, and the “tufa,” or red
clay, formed by the decomposition of the volcanic rock, ejected from
this vent, was very slippery after the recent shower. Yet, by grasping
the grass and small shrubbery, I made my way up nearly to the rim of
the crater, but did not get the unobstructed view I wished. To obtain
this, it is necessary to ascend the mountain on the north side. I was,
however, far more than repaid for my labor, by the magnificent landscape
spread out before me to the south and southeast. At my feet began the
Bua Valley, which, at a distance of ten or twelve miles, expanded into a
plain bordered on the west by the high mountains of the Barizan chain,
and on the east by that of the Padang Lawas, which yet farther on curved
round to the southwest and united with the Barizan in the gigantic peak
of Mount Talang. Winding to and fro down the Bua Valley, was occasionally
seen the silver surface of the Sinamu, and beside that and the other
streams were many broad overflowed sawas, which gave the valleys the
appearance of abounding with hundreds of little lakes. This is the
grandest and most comprehensive view I have enjoyed in Sumatra, and this
spot is well named “The Rajah’s Delight.” At an elevation of about four
thousand five hundred feet we found it very chilly by night, not so much
from the difference of temperature, as indicated by the thermometer, as
on account of a strong wind and a thick mist that enveloped us. This
coffee-garden is considered the best in this region; but the Resident
informs me that there are one or two at the same, or a somewhat greater
elevation, on the Mérapi, which are finer. The large crops raised here
are probably due to the elevation and to the soil, which has been formed
from decomposing volcanic rock, and enriched by the vegetable mould that
has accumulated for centuries.
_April 4th._—Continued on horseback along the southern flanks of Mount
Sago to its western side, when we came to the head of a valley bounded
by steep acclivities. A thick mist unfortunately concealed the view
from this point, the finest, it is said, in the whole region. A steep,
zigzag path brought us down to a small stream, and, ten miles in a
southwesterly direction, we came to the Resident’s house at Fort Van der
Capellen. The more direct and frequented road between Paya Kombo and
this place lies between Mount Sago and Mount Mérapi; and those two great
elevations are so separate that Tangjong Allam, the highest point on the
road, is only three thousand four hundred feet, about two hundred feet
above Fort de Kock. Four miles beyond, we passed through a village where
there is a waringin-tree of enormous dimensions. Its trunk is so large
that I found it required eight natives to embrace it by joining hands!
It is not, however, a single, compact trunk, like that of a pine, but is
composed of an irregular bundle of them bound together. Besides this,
there are three other great trunks which support the larger limbs, this
species of _Ficus_ being very closely allied to the banyan-tree of India.
Two miles west of this place, on the acclivity of one of the limestone
ranges already described, lies Pagaruyong, now a small kampong, but
in ancient times one of the capitals of the great Malay kingdom of
Menangkabau. Its early history only comes down to us in obscure legends.
One is that Noah and his “forty companions” in the ark discovered dry
land at Lankapura, near the present city of Palembang, by seeing a bird
which had escaped from their vessel alight at that place. From that spot
two brothers, Papati-si-batang (a name of Sanscrit origin), and Kayi
Tumangung (a name of Javanese origin), who were included in the forty
that had escaped the deluge, came to a mountain named Siguntang-guntang,
which was described as dividing Palembang from Jambi, and thence to
Priangan, a word in Javanese signifying “the land of wood-spirits,” or
fairies, and at present the name of a kampong on the road from this place
to Padang Panjang, and situated on the flanks of the Mérapi, near the
wooded region. There is little doubt that this kampong is the same as the
ancient one of the same name, for that was described as being “near the
great volcano.”
Another legend represents the founder of the Menangkabau empire to have
been Sang Sapurba (a name compounded of both Sanscrit and Javanese
words), who is also said to have come from Palembang, which we know was
a Javanese colony. The Javanese and Sanscrit origins of these names at
once suggest the probability that a larger part of the civilization
which rendered this empire so superior to all others in Sumatra, was not
indigenous, but introduced from Java, and at a period subsequent to the
introduction into that island of Hinduism and its accompanying Sanscrit
names from India. The names of many of the most remarkable mountains
and localities in this region are also found to be of similar origin,
and greatly strengthen this probability. The word Menangkabau itself
signifies in Javanese “the victory of the buffalo;” and, as it has been
one of the favorite sports of the Javanese from time immemorial to make
buffaloes fight with tigers, we may presume this locality acquired its
name from its being the frequent scene of such a bloody pastime.
When Europeans first arrived on the northern coast of the island, in
1509, this empire was evidently in its decline; and though the rajahs of
Achin, Pedir, and Pasé, acknowledged the sultan of this country as their
superior, they only paid him a small tribute, and were really independent
princes. The empire at that time included on the east coast the area
between the rivers of Palembang and Siak, and on the west coast from
Manjuta, near Indrapura, as far north as Singkel, at the mouth of the
river of that name, which is the outlet of the great Lake Aik Däu, in the
Batta Lands.[55] Afterward the Rajah of Achin, whose daughter the sultan
had married and slighted, took possession of the west coast, as far south
as Bencoolen. In 1613 his successor claimed no farther south than Padang,
and he actually governed no place south of Barus.
In 1680 the Sultan Alif died, leaving no heir. Dissensions at once arose,
and the empire was ultimately divided between three princes, who each
claimed to be the regular successor to the throne, and assumed all the
extravagant titles of the previous sultans. These princes severally
resided at Suruasa (on the Dutch maps Soeroeasso), which is situated two
miles south of Pagaruyong, on the banks of a small stream that flows
southward and empties into the Ombiling, at Pagaruyong (on the Dutch
maps Pager Oedjoeng), and at Sungtarap (in Dutch Soeng Tarap), a kampong
three miles north of Fort Van der Capellen. The Dutch treated the Prince
of Suruasa with the greatest distinction, but whether that place or
Pagaruyong was the more ancient site is undecided.
The first European who reached this region was Sir Stamford Raffles in
1818. He had the good fortune to discover at Suruasa two inscriptions
on stone in the Kawi, or ancient Javanese character, thereby proving
that the early civilization of Java was transplanted to this land. At
Pagaruyong he also discovered a Hindu image, “chastely and beautifully
carved, corresponding with those discovered in Java, and evidently the
work of similar artists and the object of a similar worship.” Thus the
ancient religion, as well as the ancient language of Java, was adopted to
some extent by the early inhabitants of this country.
There appears to be no reason why we should suppose that Mohammedanism
was first introduced into Java and thence brought to this land, as there
is in the case of the Hinduism that prevailed here centuries ago. We may
rather infer that soon after that religion had found followers on the
north coast, its teachers were not long in making their way into the
Menangkabau country, the influence and reputed wealth of which must have
been pictured to them in the most glowing colors as soon as they first
landed at Achin.
About the year 1807 three native pilgrims returned from Mecca to their
homes on the shores of Lake Korinchi, which is situated about thirty
miles southeast of the great mountain of Talang. As they had just left
the grave of their prophet, they burned with zeal to discipline their
lax countrymen, and to make them conform more nearly to the rigid
requirements of the faith they had pretended to adopt. Believing, like
true Mohammedans, that no argument is so convincing as the sword, these
zealots began a warfare as well as a reform. This religion is the more
remarkable, because, so far as we know, it is the only one that has ever
been originated in the whole archipelago.
In 1837 these religious conquerors came into collision with the Dutch,
and, after a severe contest of three years, were completely conquered,
and not a vestige of their rigorous laws can now be discerned. Such
harsh measures were evidently distasteful to the lax Malays, and now on
all market-days and festive occasions they array themselves in as gaudy
colors as they did before the zealous pilgrims of Korinchi came back from
Mecca.
The skilful work of these people in silver and gold has already been
described. This they did not learn from foreigners, but have practised
for ages. They were also very skilful in the manufacture of kris-blades,
cannon, and matchlocks—mining, smelting, and forging the iron entirely
themselves. Marsden says their principal mine was at Padang Luar,
probably Padang Luwa or Lawa, a kampong on the level land near Fort de
Kock, and about a mile north of that place. It was taken to Selimpuwong
(on the Dutch maps Salimpawang), a small kampong between Mount Mérapi
and Mount Sago, on the road leading northward from this place to Paya
Kombo, where it was smelted and manufactured. Their cannon were often
mentioned by the earliest Portuguese navigators. They were manufactured
here and sold to the more warlike nations at the northern end of the
island. The barrels of their matchlocks were made by winding a flat bar
of iron spirally around a circular rod and welding it into one piece;
and Marsden, who probably saw some of these guns, describes them as
being of the “justest bore.” They also manufactured an inferior kind of
powder. These arts they may have learned from the Chinese, who practised
them long before they were known in Europe, and who probably came down
the coast to the Malay peninsula and this island centuries before the
Portuguese sailed around the Cape of Good Hope.
At present, all the natives, except the militia, within the limits of
the Dutch territory, are absolutely forbidden by the Dutch Government to
have powder or fire-arms of any description in their possession, and the
penalty against importing them and selling them to the natives is very
severe. Without such a law, no foreigner would be safe in any part of
the archipelago. The iron that these people now use appears to be wholly
imported from Europe. They need little except for knives, and the steel
for those comes mostly from Padang.
This evening the guard reported a fire in a neighboring kampong, and
a bright light was seen some miles off on the flanks of the Mérapi.
Although I have now been in the archipelago nearly a year, it is the
first fire I have seen; and this appears the more remarkable, when we
consider the highly inflammable materials of which the native huts are
built, the walls being of bamboo and the roof of atap. However, when
they do take fire, they blaze up and disappear like a bundle of straw.
_April 6th._—The Resident gave me a span of horses and a covered carriage
to drive to the banks of a stream flowing to the southeast, and a servant
followed with another horse for me to use in fording the stream and
continuing my journey southward to the southern end of Lake Sinkara.
There has been much rain during the past week, and coming to the river we
found it so swollen and rapid that the moment a horse or man stepped into
it he would certainly be swept away. I was, therefore, obliged to follow
up its course a mile or two, till I came to a village where the natives
had made a rude bridge between two high trees that leaned toward each
other from the opposite banks of the torrent. The bottom of the bridge
consisted of only two large bamboos, but there was another on either side
to enable one to maintain his balance while crossing. No place could be
found where it was possible to bring over the horse, and I was obliged,
therefore, to send him back and finish that day’s journey of twenty miles
on foot.
After crossing the stream I turned to the eastward, and, passing over a
number of sharp ridges, came down to the road we had left. This conducted
us along a small, rapid river, which we found to be the Ombiling, the
only outlet of Lake Sinkara. At several places I noticed large wheels
for raising water to inundate the rice-fields. On the rim were fastened
pieces of bamboo at a slight angle, which filled as they touched the
surface of the stream and poured out their contents when they came to
the highest point. In all particulars these wheels are exactly like
those used in China for the same purpose, and perhaps were introduced by
immigrants or merchants from that land. We crossed the foaming Ombiling
on a bridge near where the lake pours out its surplus water down a ravine
and forms that stream. Before the Dutch came up into this region the
natives had made a suspension bridge here, near Samawang, similar to the
one I crossed over the Batang Taroh. Governor Raffles has described it
in his memoirs, and has also noticed the water-wheels just described,
so that they must have been in use for a long time, and could not have
been introduced by Europeans nor by the Chinamen who have established
themselves at the principal places in this region since it became subject
to the Dutch.
Mid-day was passed when I reached the kampong of Samawang, near the
bridge, and I was so worn out with my long walk over the mountains and
fording the swollen streams, that I was glad to crawl into a little dirty
hut and beg an old Malay woman to cook me a little rice, for I had yet
ten miles farther to go, and pouring showers frequently came over the
lake. My repast consisted of rice, a smoked fish, a few grains of coarse
salt and some red pepper ground up together between two flat stones. As I
satisfied my hunger, I could but contrast my simple meal with the royal
feasts I had been taking with the governor at his residence at Padang
less than a week before, but, as Shakespeare says, “Hunger is the best
sauce,” and I enjoyed my hard fare more than many pampered princes do the
choicest viands. From this place there is a well-built road along the
eastern side of the lake to the kampong of Sinkara on the southern shore.
The lake is ten miles long and about three miles wide. It is parallel
to the Barizan chain in this place, and extends in a northwest and
southeast direction. Its surface is about seventeen hundred feet above
the sea. Its most remarkable character is its great depth at one place,
near the cleft of Paningahan, where the plummet runs down eleven hundred
and eighty-two feet, nearly a quarter of a mile, so that its bottom, at
that spot, is only about five hundred feet above the level of the sea.
West of the Sinkara is the great Barizan chain, with its acclivities
rising immediately from the margin of the lake, and its peaks generally
attaining an elevation of fifteen hundred feet above the lake, or three
thousand two hundred feet above the sea. On the eastern side, and on
the northern end of the lake, are hills of less than half that height,
mostly composed of syenite. The Barizan chain, as shown in the cleft of
Paningahan, is composed of chloritic schists interstratified with marble,
and overlaid in most places with lava, pumice-stone, and volcanic sand or
ashes. These strata of schists and limestone undoubtedly rest on gigantic
rocks, for such are found outcropping on the opposite or coast side of
the range. The basin of Lake Sinkara, therefore, occurs where a great
fault has taken place. Five miles east of the lake, and a short distance
south of the kampong Pasilian, is Mount Sibumbun, which, as well as the
cleft of Paningahan, has been carefully examined by Mr. Van Dijk, of the
Government Mining Corps, on account of the copper-mines they contain.
Sibumbun is a peak of greenstone rising out of syenite. Westward, one
passes from the granite into marble, and then on to a sandstone of a late
formation, which contains layers of coal that is probably of the same age
as that I saw at Siboga.
The whole geological history of this part of Sumatra may be summed up
as follows: On the syenite and granite, layers of mud and coral were
deposited; then the whole was raised and plicated; and after this period
was deposited the sandstone, the strata of which we have already noted
as being unconformable to the rocks on which they rest, and more nearly
horizontal. If, as Mr. Van Dijk thinks, and is very probable, the marble
in the cleft of Padang Pangjang is formed from corals, at least not older
than the eocene age, it follows that the mountain-ranges of Sumatra have
been formed within a comparatively recent period. The process of covering
these strata by lava, pumice-stone, and volcanic sand and ashes, has been
going on since historic time.
The most remarkable thing in this kampong of Sinkara, is the _bali_,
or town-hall. Either end, on the inside, is built up into a series of
successive platforms, one rising over the other. On the outside these
elevated ends resemble the stern of the old three and four decked
frigates which the Dutch generally used when they first became masters
of these seas, and such as can yet be seen used as hulks in the ports
of the British colonies. The exterior of the _bali_, as well as the
better private houses, are painted red, and ornamented with flowers and
scroll-work in white and black.
While at this village I noticed a native leading a large dog-like monkey
from place to place. On inquiring, the servants told me that he was
trained to pick off cocoa-nuts from the bunches in the trees, but I
doubted whether he could know what ones to select, and therefore watched
him myself. His master brought him to the foot of the tree, gave a
peculiar jerk to the rope, and at once he began to climb up. Reaching
the top, he seated himself on the base of a leaf and immediately began
wrenching off those nuts that were fully grown, by partially twisting
them. After he had taken off all the ripe nuts on one side of the tree,
he went round to the opposite side and broke off the ripe ones there
also, without once attempting to pull off those that were partly grown.
This selecting the ripe nuts from the large clusters seemed to be the
result of his own instinct, and not of any signal from his master, so far
as I could detect.
The shore at the southern end of the lake is very low and marshy, and
wholly devoted to rice-fields. Here were enormous flocks of herons,
that made the sawas perfectly white wherever they alighted. Over these
low lands is built the road that leads to Solok, six miles distant in a
southeasterly direction.
_April 8th._—Rode to Solok. On the way passed twenty-seven women going
to the burial of a native prince. Their costume was peculiar, even in
this land. It consisted simply of the common sarong open at the right
hip, and fastened at the waist to a narrow scarf about the neck, and a
turban around the head. About three miles from Sinkara, the way passed
over a slight elevation, and again I came down into a low land which was
one great fertile sawa. Rice here is abundant and very cheap, and the
Resident states that many of the natives prefer to use that which is at
least a year old, and that a few have small quantities which they have
kept for several years. The kernels of this rice are smaller than those
of the kind grown in our Carolinas; but that has been tried here, and
found to yield less by a considerable number of pounds per acre than the
native variety.
This region was known, before it was conquered by the Dutch, as the Tiga
Blas country, or the country of the “Thirteen Confederate Towns,” because
the thirteen villages in this vicinity had entered into a compact to
afford mutual aid and protection. In a similar manner all the territory
that previously belonged to the single kingdom of Menangkabau was divided
up into petty confederacies when the Dutch conquered the country, and the
several areas thus ruled are now marked on the Dutch maps as the district
of the “Five, Ten, or Twenty Kottas.” At present, though most of the
natives live in villages, many houses are scattered over the cultivated
lands. Before the conquest they all lived in villages that were generally
surrounded by a stockade and a thick hedge of bamboos. The Dutch generals
who subdued them destroyed these rude fortifications, that the villagers
might have no defences and less facilities to revolt.
Many of the kampongs in this region were then situated on the hills, but
have since been removed to the plains for the same reason. Near Solok,
the inner range that forms the western buttress of the plateau rises up
above the surrounding plain like a great wall, that curves round to the
west and unites with the Barizan chain in the great Talang, which attains
an elevation of about eight thousand five hundred feet. A short distance
north of it is a cleft, through which the Resident is now building a road
to Padang. About twelve miles to the north are two other clefts, near
Paningahan, formed by the throes of a volcano near that kampong; and
farther north is the cleft at Padang Panjang, all four occurring within
less than thirty miles in a straight line.
On the southeastern declivity of Talang, at the height of six thousand
feet, is a small tarn, whence issues the Solok River, that empties into
Lake Sinkara, the source of the Ombiling, which curves to the east and
southeast, and unites with the Sinamu, that we have already traced from
Paya Kombo down the Bua Valley. From their juncture begins the Indragiri,
which, pursuing an easterly course over the low lands that form the
eastern side of Sumatra, empties into the Java Sea nearly opposite the
Linga Islands. This tarn, therefore, may be regarded as the source of the
Indragiri; and within a circle of half a mile radius rise three streams
that flow in wholly different directions—two, the Indragiri and Jambi,
emptying into the Java Sea, and the third mingling its waters with those
of the Indian Ocean.
_April 10th._—Rode on horseback from Sinkara north to Samawang, at the
outlet of the lake, and thence continued on foot in a westerly direction
to Batu Bragon, at its northern end, and in a northwesterly direction to
Padang Panjang.
On the west side of the lake, from the mouths of the deep ravines,
extend bands of naked stones, which form, as it were, paved highways—the
highways, indeed, that Nature has made for man to go up among her sublime
mountains.
Between Samawang and Batu Bragon I crossed several beds of these dry
torrents. The boulders in them were mostly of lava, and rapidly falling
apart into a coarse, sharp-edged shingle. Fragments of syenite also
appeared. These stones had been washed down from the neighboring hills,
and were piled up in long winrows, as if they had been as light as
chaff—so great is the transporting power of these mountain torrents, that
only exist during the heavy rains.
From Batu Bragon the road ascended the flanks of the Mérapi, which are
under the highest state of cultivation—most of them terraced for rice,
but some sugar-cane is also raised here. To press out its juices, two
cylinders of wood are placed perpendicularly in a wooden frame, and
several spirals are made on each, so that they will exactly fit into each
other like the cogs of two wheels. One of these is turned round by a long
lever drawn by a buffalo, the other cylinder revolving at the same time,
but, of course, in the opposite direction. The stalks of the cane are put
in on one side, and the juices are gathered in a large vessel beneath.
This they boil into a syrup, and, some say, crystallize it into sugar.
Again and again, as I was ascending to Padang Panjang, I turned to
enjoy once more the magnificent view to the south. Near me were green
rice-fields waving in the sunshine, and far beneath these was the large
blue lake surrounded by high dark mountains; on their lofty peaks were
gathering black clouds, from which occasionally a heavy, suppressed
muttering rolled along, betokening the severity of the coming storm. The
next day I returned to the governor’s residence at Padang.
Some time before I came from Java, a Malay prau, in the employ of
Chinamen, had visited the Pagi Islands, to purchase cocoa-nut oil and
tortoise-shell, and had induced a man and woman, represented in the
accompanying illustration, to go with them to Padang. The sarong of the
woman was made of the leaves of the cocoa-nut palm and banana, torn up
into strips, and fastened at one end to a long rattan, which was wound
several times round the waist. When these leaves are green, they form a
respectable covering, but, in the hot, tropical sun, they soon wither
into mere strings. For a baju a similar garment of banana-leaves was
used. The headdress was yet more peculiar. It was made of banana-leaves,
folded, as shown in the engraving, into the form of a cocked hat. This
is usually ornamented at the top with a tuft of grass, and it is always
worn crosswise. The only clothing of the man was a strip of bark, about
four inches wide, and ten or twelve feet long, passing round the waist,
and covering the loins, as shown in the cut. Boys go entirely naked
until they are about eight years old. Neither the man nor woman cared
for rice, but they were fond of bread, though they had never seen any
before. Their usual food at home was sago, boiled in salt water, and
covered with grated cocoa-nut. When the governor gave the man a fowl, and
asked him to cook it after his own fashion, he built a small fire in the
back yard, and, as soon as it was well blazing, tied the bird’s wings
and legs, and thrust it alive into the flames, in order to burn off the
feathers. The governor provided them with many presents for their rajahs
and friends, and, at the first opportunity, sent them back to their
islands. Soon after their return, another native came to Padang in the
same way. He was there when I came back from the interior, and, at the
governor’s invitation, he made us a visit. He was of the pure Malay type,
not differing to a marked degree in stature or general proportions from
the Sumatran Malays who came with him. His breast and abdomen and the
backs of his hands were tattooed. Both sexes are ornamented in this way.
The process is begun when they are six or seven years old, and continued
at intervals for a long time. This man said that each village had a style
of its own. It is done with a sharpened copper wire, and the substance
pricked in is said to be the smoke of a gum, mingled with the sap of
some plant, as the juice of the sugar-cane. He had no idea of the origin
of this custom; nor of its use, except to distinguish the people of the
various villages.
[Illustration: NATIVES OF THE PAGI ISLANDS.]
Some time before I set out on my last journey, the governor had offered
to give me a small gun-boat, somewhat larger than a pilot-boat, but
manned with nearly twenty Malays, to go off to these islands, taking
this man, who had learned some Malay during his stay at Padang with me as
an interpreter. An unexpected event, however, made it necessary to send
that boat up the coast, and it would be some days before another would
come; so I concluded to take the mail-boat for Bencoolen, and commence
a long journey directly across the island to Palembang, and, reaching
Banca, go up to Singapore on the steamer which touches at that island
while on her way to Singapore from Batavia.
While travelling in the interior of Sumatra, we have seen that the
mountains, which extend from one end of the island to the other, range
themselves, generally, in two parallel chains, that wall in a long,
narrow plateau. The island of Engano is the summit of the southeastern
peak in another similar mountain-chain, extending in a northwesterly
direction, parallel to those already described. After sinking beneath the
level of the sea, this chain reappears in the Pagi, Mantawi, and Batu
groups, Pulo Nias, Pulo Babi, and the Cocos Islands.
The plateau in the interior, we have also found, is divided into a
number of separate valleys, by transverse ranges, which yoke together
the principal chains. In a similar manner transverse ranges appear in
Pulo Kapini, one of the Batu Islands, and in the Banyak Islands. These
transverse ranges are seen also in the high and well-marked promontories
which jut out from the Barizan, or coast-chain of Sumatra, at those
places. A third projecting part of the coast is seen at Indrapura. As
the valleys in the interior become plateaus, when we compare them to
the present sea-level, so is the long, narrow area between these islands
and Sumatra a plateau, when compared with the bed of the unfathomable
ocean outside of them. In the same manner, then, as the Kurile and Japan
Islands, the Lew-Chews, and Formosa, are but the more elevated parts of
a great mountain-chain that rises on the eastern edge of the continent
of Asia, so these islands are only the tops of another great chain
which rises on a part of the southern border of the same continent, and
indicates where the wide and deep basin of the Indian Ocean commences.
CHAPTER XVI.
CROSSING SUMATRA.
_April 17th._—Took the steamer at Padang for Bencoolen. Nearly all the
way we had a heavy wind from the southeast, though the southeastern
monsoon has not yet begun in the Java Sea. The western limit of this
monsoon region, I judge, after many inquiries, may be considered to be
the Cape of Indrapura, but both monsoon winds prevail occasionally as
far north as Padang. Farther north the winds are constantly variable. At
Tapanuli Bay I was informed that heavy “northers” occasionally prevail
for several days; and I was earnestly advised not to go off to the
adjacent island of Mensalla in a ship’s boat, though the sea was calm for
two or three days at a time.
_April 18th._—At 2 P. M. we entered Bencoolen Bay. It is an open
roadstead, and the swell raised by the steady southeast trades of the
Indian Ocean rolls in and breaks for the first time on the shore, there
being no chain of islands to the seaward to protect this part of the
coast, as there is farther north. We were able, however, to anchor in the
bay off the city. Landing here is difficult, on account of the surf, and
especially as the shores are mostly fringed with coral reefs. The city is
located on a low bluff, on the south side of the bay.
By a treaty with the Dutch in 1824 this territory was ceded them by the
English, in exchange for Malacca and the adjoining country. It is at
present under a Resident, who is appointed by the government at Batavia,
and is not under the Governor of Padang. The residency commences at the
southeastern extremity of the island, and includes the area between
the Barizan chain and the sea-coast, from that point as far north as
Mokomoko. Its population numbers one hundred and twenty thousand five
hundred and fourteen, and is divided as follows:—Europeans, one hundred
and seventy-four; natives, one hundred and nineteen thousand six hundred
and ninety-one; Chinese, five hundred and ninety-six; Arabs, six; other
Eastern nations, forty-seven.
_April 19th._—The Resident gave me a large prau to go to Pulo Tikus or
Rat Island, a small coral island, about six miles off Bencoolen. On its
shore-side the reef curves in at one place, and forms a little bay.
All round it, on the edges of the reef, were a number of old anchors,
heavy enough for the largest frigates. They had been placed there by the
English, who moored their ships at that place, and carried off the pepper
from Bencoolen in praus. If Bencoolen had a good harbor or roadstead,
it would be an important place, but it has none, and there is no good
opportunity to make one.
On Pulo Tikus we found a few fishermen, from whom I obtained a number
of the same species of shells that I had gathered before at the Spice
Islands and other places in the eastern part of the archipelago. The
common nautilus-shell is occasionally found there, and a very perfect one
was given me that had been brought from Engano. It is, however, probable
that the animal does not live in these seas, and that these shells have
floated from the vicinity of the island of Rotti, off the southern end of
Timur, where, as already noticed, these rare mollusks are said to live in
abundance.
Bencoolen is also well known throughout the archipelago as having been
the residence of Sir Stamford Raffles, who was governor of the English
possessions, on this coast, from 1818 to 1824. From 1811 to 1816,
while the whole archipelago was under the English, Sir Stamford was
governor-general, and resided near Batavia, and it was contrary to his
most earnest representations that Java and its dependencies were ceded
back to the Dutch; and the great, direct revenue which those islands have
yielded to Holland, since that time, has proved, in an emphatic manner,
the correctness of his foresight. Ever since I arrived at Batavia, I have
frequently heard his name mentioned by the Dutch officials, and always
with the greatest respect.
Governor Raffles’s taste for natural history was very marked. During his
visit to London, before coming here, he founded the Zoological Society,
and began the Zoological Gardens, which now form one of the chief
inducements to strangers to visit that great and wealthy metropolis. When
he sailed from this port, his ship was nearly loaded with the animals of
the region, living and mounted, but, the same evening, when not more than
fifty miles from the coast, she took fire, and her crew and passengers
barely escaped with their lives. Not only all Sir Stamford’s specimens,
but all his official documents, and the many private papers he had been
gathering during twelve years, were irreparably lost. Such a strange
fatality seems to attend the shipment of specimens in natural history
from the East, but I trust that mine may be an exception to this rule.[56]
_April 20th._—Rode to Ujang Padang, a low bluff about twenty feet high,
on the north side of Bencoolen Bay. It is composed of a stiff, red clay,
resting on other layers of lead-colored clay, which are stratified, and
contain many fossils of recent shells, a few of which appeared in the
lower strata of the red clay. These fossiliferous strata probably extend
for some distance north and south, but are concealed by the overlying
strata of red clay, for they reappear again at the foot of a bluff
between this point and Bencoolen.
From Cape Indrapura southward, a strip of low, comparatively level
land borders the shore, but north of that point the ocean comes up to
the bases of the hills and mountains. South of that point there are a
few small islands near the shore, but north of it the sea is studded
with them; and especially north of Padang there are very many shallow,
dangerous coral reefs, not indicated on most maps. South of Indrapura
the coast has either been elevated more than the area north of it, which
has remained beneath the sea, or the northern part of the coast has been
depressed, while the southern part has nearly maintained its former
level. The sand and clays of which this strip of low alluvial land is
composed came from the disintegration and decomposition of the rocks
that form the Barizan chain. They have been transported to their present
position by the many small streams that flow down the southwestern
flanks of those mountains to the sea. The transporting power of a stream
depends, of course, chiefly on its volume, and the rapidity with which it
flows. A glance at the maps of Sumatra will show that the larger streams
are north of Cape Indrapura. Again, as the streams south of that point
flow, for a part of their course, through level lands, they are not as
rapid as those north of it, which empty at once into the sea, without
making a circuitous or zigzag course through the alluvial lands, or
deltas, which they themselves have formed.
_April 21st._—Commenced my overland journey on horseback, the only
mode of travelling in this region. Our company to-day consists of the
Resident, a rajah, and many attendants; and we have come here to Suban,
to look at the deposits of coal in this vicinity. From Bencoolen to
Taba Pananjong, at the foot of the Barizan, the road is nearly level,
being over the strip of low land that we followed along the Bencoolen
River, having the sharply-pointed Sugar-Loaf Mountain on our right,
until we came to a second pointed hill belonging to the same eruptive
formation. In one place we saw the recent tracks of an elephant, and the
natives, who are good judges, think they were probably made yesterday.
Soon after, a spot was pointed out to me where, not long before, were
found fragments of the clothing, and a part of the body of a native,
who, while travelling along this, the most frequented road in this
region, had been torn to pieces by the tigers. Near by is a rude trap
for these destructive beasts. It consists of a small place, enclosed by
a paling, with two large trees placed horizontally, the one above the
other, so that when the tiger puts his head between them to seize the
kid within the paling, the upper beam falls on him and holds him fast
by its great weight. The natives then, hearing his roaring, come up
and quickly dispatch him with their lances. When eighteen paals (about
seventeen miles) from Bencoolen, we left the main road, which is well
built, and followed a narrow footpath for six paals over a succession
of small ridges that jut out from the main coast-chains. They were so
near together that we were continually either scrambling down a steep
declivity to the bottom of a little valley, or climbing up the opposite
side. The soil is a red clay, like that noticed in the cliffs at Ujang
Padang, and has been formed by the decomposition of the volcanic rocks
which it covers. Heavy showers have occurred in this vicinity to-day, and
descending or ascending these declivities is very difficult. It would
be dangerous to travel here with any but these active and sure-footed
ponies. With men on their backs they will climb up places that our horses
at home, which are accustomed to level roads, would not like to ascend
alone. In certain spots along this path were many piles of the excrements
of elephants, where they came to feed on the branches of young trees.
Half an hour before sunset we arrived here, at Suban, a village of four
houses, and were glad to rest and take some food after a very fatiguing
day’s journey. Near by is a large stony brook, where I have enjoyed a
refreshing bath in the cool, clear mountain-stream.
_April 22d._—Early this morning we walked about half a mile up the
stream, making our way over the huge boulders in its bed. Soon we came
to strata of coal, associated with layers of clay and sandstone. I was
searching particularly for a limestone mentioned by Van Dijk, who has
examined the geology of this region, as being of the same age as the
coal, and containing fossils of a recent period. Not finding it in this
direction, I returned and continued down the stream for half a mile,
crossing from side to side over the slippery rocks and through the
torrent until the banks became high, perpendicular walls, and the water
was deeper than the waist.
Finding I could proceed no farther without a raft of bamboo, I returned
a quarter of a mile, ascended the steep bank, and followed down the
stream for about a mile, but could not find any outcropping of the rock
I was seeking. When I reached Suban again, I felt a peculiar smarting
and itching sensation at the ankles, and found my stockings red with
blood. Turning them down, I found both ankles perfectly fringed with
blood-suckers, some of which had filled themselves until they seemed
ready to burst. One had even crawled down to my foot, and made an
incision which allowed the blood to pour out through my canvas shoe.
All this day we have suffered from these disgusting pests. Our horses
became quite striped with their own blood, and a dog that followed us
looked as if he had run through a pool of clotted gore before we reached
the highway again. Of all the pests I have experienced in the tropics,
or in any land, whether mosquitoes, black flies, ants, snakes, or viler
vermin, these are the most annoying and disgusting. There is something
almost unendurable in the thought that these slimy worms are lancing you
and sucking out your life-blood, yet the Resident informs me that he
has travelled many times through the forests in this region when these
animals were far more numerous and tormenting than they have been to-day.
Sometimes he has known them to drop from the leaves upon the heads and
into the necks of all who chanced to pass that way.
Returning two paals toward the highway, we took a path through a
magnificent forest in a more easterly direction, for about the same
distance, to Ayar Sumpur, a brook where the coal again appears on its
sides and in its bed. The layers seen at Suban were not more than two or
three feet thick, but here they are from six to ten. Between this place
and Suban coal again outcrops on the banks of the Kamuning. In all these
places it is near the surface, being only covered with a few feet of
red clay. That at Ayar Sumpur appears decidedly better than that found
near Siboga.[57] From this place to where the coal could be taken down
the Bencoolen River is a distance of only four Java paals. From there
it could be transported to Bencoolen on bamboo rafts, the distance by
the river being twenty-six and a half paals. The enormous quantity found
here is estimated at over 200,000,000 cubic yards. The quantity and the
quality of this deposit will make it of value, in case the government
owning this part of the island should have its supply from Europe cut
off by a war, but the disadvantage of not having a good roadstead at
Bencoolen, where this coal could be taken on board vessels, renders it
doubtful whether it would be found profitable to work this mine, except
in case of great emergency, and then it might be found preferable to
bring it from Borneo. Coal is also found at Dusun Baru, in the district
of Palajou, on the banks of the Ketaun River, in the district of
Mokomoko, and again in the district of Indrapura. At all these places it
agrees in its mineral characteristics and outcrops very regularly at a
distance of about ten miles from the sea-coast. About five miles farther
inland, at Bukit Sunnur and at Suban, another and superior kind of coal
appears, which maybe somewhat older than the former. This latter coal
agrees in its mineral characteristics with that found a few miles east
of the lake of Sinkara. All the coal in the vicinity of Suban is near
the surface, sometimes only covered with four or five feet of red clay.
Any private company who would like to work this mine would receive every
assistance from the general and local governments.
On our return from Agar Sumpur we noticed the tracks of a rhinoceros,
tiger, and deer, which had all passed along that way last night. In the
path, from place to place, the natives had made pits eight or ten feet
long, and about three wide and five or six deep. Each was covered over
with sticks, on which dirt was laid, and dry leaves were scattered over
the whole so as to perfectly conceal all appearance of danger. It is so
nearly of the proportions of the rhinoceros, for whom it is made, and so
deep, and the clay in which it is made is so slippery, that he generally
fails to extricate himself, and the natives then dispatch him with their
spears. The Resident tells me that the natives have also killed elephants
by watching near a place where they come often to feed, and when one
is walking and partly sliding down a steep declivity they spring up
behind him and give a heavy blow with a cleaver on the after-part of the
hind-legs, six or eight inches above the foot, but that this dangerous
feat is very rarely attempted.
Reaching the main road, we soon arrived at Taba Pananjong. All the
kampongs in this region are small, frequently consisting of only eight
or ten houses, but they are all very neat and regularly arranged in one
row on each side of the road, which is usually bordered with a line of
cocoa-nut-trees. The natives are called Rejangs, and form a distinct
nation from the Malays of Menangkabau. They have an alphabet and language
peculiar to themselves, but belong to the same Malay race as all the
others in the island of Sumatra. In order that I might see them dance,
the Resident invited the rajah to come to the house of the _controleur_
in the evening and bring with him the “_anak gadis_,” literally “the
virgins,” of the village, but really the unmarried females. They were
all clad in a sarong, fastened high round the waist, and over the
shoulders was thrown a sort of scarf, which was so folded that one end
would hang down behind, between the shoulders. Their dance consisted in
little more than stretching both arms back until the backs of the hands
nearly touched each other, and holding the edges of the scarf between
the fingers. This peculiar figure they take in order to give their busts
the fullest appearance possible, and captivate some one of the young
men looking on. From this position they changed their hands to near the
shoulders, the arms being extended and the forearms being turned back
toward the head. The hands were then twisted round, with the wrist for a
pivot.
Several young men appeared quite charmed and eagerly joined in the dance.
The postures they assumed were quite similar. It is on such festive
occasions that marriage contracts are generally made. The price of a
bride, _jujur_, is fixed by the Dutch Government at twenty guilders,
eight Mexican dollars, that is, the parents cannot now recover more than
that sum for their daughter in case their son-in-law is unwilling to
pay a larger sum. When the English were here in the beginning of this
century, the _jujur_ was as high as a hundred or a hundred and twenty
dollars. Some of the “virgin children” I noticed had reached middle age,
but the rajah explained to me that no man is willing to part with his
daughters at a less price than the twenty guilders his neighbor receives
for each of his, for fear of appearing to acknowledge that he thought his
neighbor’s daughters were more fascinating than his own; and a young man,
being obliged to pay the same sum for any bride, of course chooses one
who, according to his fancy, possesses the greatest charms, and no one
who is not young is supposed to be charming.
Another common mode of marrying among these people is termed _umbil
anak_, “taking a child.” A father chooses a husband for his daughter and
takes the young man to live in his family. When this young man can pay
a certain sum to the father, he removes his wife and family to his own
house, but until that time he and his family are regarded as servants
or debtors. As tokens of their virginity, the anak gadis wear silver on
their forearms, and broad bands of silver on their wrists. In the Lampong
country to the south, instead of small, solid rings, they wear large
rings made of hollow tubes, sometimes in such a number as to cover both
arms from the wrist to the elbow. Here they occasionally have silver
chains on their necks, and in their ears ornaments somewhat similar
in form to those worn in the Menangkabau country, but much smaller,
and the part that passes through the ear is no larger than a quill.
These natives also make many fine imitations of fruit and flowers in
silver, like those of the Padang plateau. Their sarongs and scarfs they
manufacture themselves, and ornament very skilfully with figures and
leaves wrought in with silver-thread.
_April 20th._—Rode this morning from Taba Pananjong over the Barizan
or Coast Range, which here, as elsewhere, is generally higher than the
ranges parallel to it on the east, and therefore forms the water-shed
between the east and west coasts. The road had been well built, but was
extremely muddy and badly washed away in some places by the heavy rains
which have lately occurred in this vicinity. It is, however, sufficiently
good for the natives to use their _padatis_, or carts drawn by buffaloes,
but most of the men I met were carrying their produce to market on their
backs.
All the mountains are covered with a most dense forest, but the low
lands which spread from their bases to the sea appear quite unfertile,
especially when compared with the low lands of Java. The morning air was
still and clear, and troops of large black monkeys made the valleys and
ravines continually resound with their loud trumpeting. From the top of
the pass, which is from two thousand five hundred to three thousand feet
in height, a magnificent view is obtained, to the southwest, of the low
lands extending to Bencoolen, and also of Pulo Tikus in the distance,
and the heavy surf breaking on its coral reefs and sparkling brightly in
the sunshine. On the opposite or interior side of the chain was spread
out before me the lovely and highly fertile valley of the River Musi,
which takes its rise a little farther to the north. In the midst of this
valley was the kampong and Dutch post Kopaiyong. Beyond the valley rose
an active volcano, Mount Ulu Musi, with three peaks. The largest and the
oldest was quiet, and beyond it was a second and somewhat smaller cone,
evidently of a more recent origin than the former, but also inactive.
Beyond this cone was a third, yet smaller, from the top of which great
quantities of steam and other gases were ascending in dense volumes.
From this pass our descent was as rapid as our ascent had been on the
coast side, until we came down to the banks of the Musi, and the valley
in which the village of Kopaiyong is situated. The height of this plateau
above the sea is from fifteen to eighteen hundred feet. It is a complete
analogue of the plateau about the lake of Sinkara, and all the others
between the Barizan and its parallel chains to the northward. Its soil is
a fine, black loam. Its chief products are tobacco and coffee, which both
thrive here very well. This is considered, and no doubt rightly, a very
healthy place. There are no “wet or dry seasons,” as in Java, but showers
occur here every few days, generally in the afternoon. Although the
soil and climate of this valley are so favorable for the development of
civilization, yet the natives in all this region, until a few years ago,
only clothed themselves with the bark of trees. This plateau has lacked,
however, one inducement toward promoting industry and civilization which
that of Menangkabau possesses, and that is gold. In the coast region,
the houses of the natives have high, sharp roofs, and are covered with
atap, but here they are larger and lower; and the roofs are nearly flat,
and covered with bamboos split into halves and placed side by side, with
the concave side upward. Over the edges of these are placed other pieces
of bamboo, with the concave side downward. This is the only place in the
archipelago where I have seen this simple and easy mode of making a roof.
_April 24th._—Finding myself very ill from over-exertion during the
past two days, and that the next two days’ journeys must be long and
fatiguing, I rest here and enjoy the cool, refreshing air of Kopaiyong
for a day. The _controleur_ informs me that the volcanic cone northeast
of us was formed during an eruption which took place only a year ago, and
that, for some time previous to the eruption, heavy earthquakes occurred
here very frequently; but since the gases that were pent up beneath the
mountain have found a vent, only one earthquake has been experienced,
and that was very slight. This is the most active volcano I have seen.
A great quantity of white gas is now rising most grandly. At one moment
it appears like a great sheaf, and at the next instant slowly changes
into a perpendicular column, and this again becomes an immense inverted
cone, which seems supported in the sky by resting its apex on the summit
of the volcano beneath it. The whole amount of trade at this place in a
year amounts to one hundred thousand guilders (forty thousand dollars).
The traders are Chinamen, Arabs, and a few Dutchmen. They obtain from
the natives coffee and tobacco, and give them in return cotton goods,
knives, and various kinds of trinkets. The population of this region
appears to be only a small fraction of what it is on the Padang plateau;
if it were as large and industrious, the upper valley of the Musi would
soon be transformed into one great garden, and Bencoolen, to which its
products must be taken to be shipped abroad, would immediately become a
port of the first importance. I had seriously contemplated undertaking
the journey from Solok to this place, and if it had not been necessary
for me to return to Padang, I should have attempted it, notwithstanding
it would have been necessary to have travelled the whole distance on
foot, and to have met constant hinderances and annoyances from the
natives, who are extremely jealous of all foreigners. The distance from
Solok, in a straight line, is nearly two hundred geographical miles, but
by the zigzag and circuitous route which I would have been obliged to
take, it would have been nearly three hundred.
The house of the _controleur_ at this place is covered with an atap of
bamboo splints, made in the same way as the common atap of palm-leaves,
but it is much neater, and said to be far more durable.
_April 25th._—As there are no white people at the place where I am
to lodge to-night, the _controleur_ was so kind as to send a servant
yesterday with an ample supply of eatables, and orders to the rajahs on
the way to receive me kindly when I reached their respective villages.
At 6 A. M. started with a guide and a coolie for Kaban Agong, a distance
of nine paals in a southeasterly direction, along the Musi, which, in
this part of its course, is only a small stream with slight falls at
short distances. The valley south of Kopaiyong may be quite wide, but we
soon passed into such a dense jungle that I was unable to obtain any view
of the mountains on either hand. Kaban Agong is a small kampong of twenty
or twenty-five houses, and, except the two or three occasionally seen
near each other in the cleared places, or ladangs, the whole country is
an unbroken wilderness.
The houses of the village were quite regularly arranged in two rows, and
in the middle of the street between them is a small circular house, with
open sides, and seats around it for the coolies, who are travelling to
and fro, to stop and rest under a shelter from the sunshine. Here the
rajah received me, and brought such fruits as his people raised. The
coolie, who marched beside my horse, carried my Spencer’s breech-loader,
which I had been careful to have ready loaded and capped. It caused the
natives to manifest the greatest respect for us, especially when my
servants declared that I needed only to put it to my shoulder, pull the
trigger, and there would be a constant stream of bullets. From Kaban
Agong to Tanjong Agong (eight paals) we passed over a more open and hilly
country. The road here diverged from the left bank of the Musi, and took
a more easterly course. Here more sawas appeared, but the people are
in great poverty. Many of the hills are covered with the common rank
prairie-grass, which we saw covering large areas in the northwest part of
the Mandéling Valley, and in many other places.
In such open prairies the sun poured down a most scorching heat, and
even my Malay attendants complained bitterly; indeed, I find I can bear
such excessive heat better than they. From the tops of the low hills I
enjoyed fine views of the Barizan or coast chain. The outline of many
of its peaks shows that they were formerly eruptive cones, but now they
are more or less washed down or changed in form by rains and streams.
As we came near this village, Tanjong Agong, the road was filled with
the tracks and excrements of a herd of elephants that passed this way
yesterday or the day before. Two days ago two of these beasts came into
the sawas, near this place, and the natives succeeded in shooting one.
Tanjong Agong is a small village, of only eighteen or twenty small
houses, each of which is placed on posts six or eight feet high. A ladder
leads up to a landing, which is enclosed by a fence and a gate, to
prevent the tigers from entering their houses. The natives keep hens, and
would have dogs, but they are all destroyed by the tigers. These ravenous
beasts infest the whole region in such numbers, and are so daring, that
the rajah, who can speak Malay very well, assures me that, during last
year, _five_ of the people of this little village were torn to pieces by
them while working in the sawas, or while travelling to the neighboring
kampongs. No native here ever thinks of going even the shortest distance
by night, except when sent on the most urgent business; and it is chiefly
for this reason that I always commence my day’s journey so early.
The house in which I lodge is built of bamboo, and surrounded with a
paling of sharpened stakes, which also include the stable. It has lately
been built by order of the Dutch Government for the accommodation of any
official or other foreigner travelling in this country. Before the paling
was completed, the _controleur_ of the district visited this place, and
put his horse into the stable. At midnight he heard a loud howling and
neighing, and the natives shouting out to each other to come with their
arms. A tiger had come out of the adjoining forest, and had sprung upon
his horse from behind, and the natives were attacking him with their
lances. He lost his horse, but had the privilege of carrying away the
tiger’s skin. Those who complain of the scarcity of game ought to come
here. It is not by any means inaccessible, and both tigers and elephants
are exceedingly abundant.
_April 26th._—At 6½ A. M. continued on through a more open and somewhat
cultivated country. The Musi here makes a great bend to the southwest,
and the path leads eastward over a gently-rising elevation, on the top
of which is a large and most thriving coffee-garden, and near by are
rice-fields which yield abundantly. This garden has been very lately
planted, and yet all the trees that are old enough to bear are nearly
loaded down with fruit. The rice-fields show that an abundance of food
could be raised here, and the only thing that is wanting is people to do
the work. The elevated situation of this country makes it very healthy
for foreigners. If any one could obtain a grant of land here, and also
the privilege of bringing a large number of Chinamen, he would certainly
realize a fortune, for coffee can be here cultivated with little care,
and rice, the staple article of food among that people, can be raised in
any quantity. Such a privilege could not be obtained at present, but the
liberal tendency of the government of the Netherlands India promises that
it may be, at no distant time in the future. Such an enterprise would not
have the character of an experiment, for the facility with which coffee
and rice can be grown has already been shown on this plantation, and
the cost of transporting it to Padang or Palembang would be very light.
Sumatra undoubtedly contains large quantities of gold, but the true
source of her wealth is not the precious metal she possesses, but the
crops of coffee she produces.
From the top of this mountain I took my last view of the Barizan chain,
which had been constantly in sight since I passed through the Strait of
Sunda on my way to Padang. In the ladangs in this region the walls of the
huts of the natives are mostly made of bark. While coming down from this
low mountain-range, we had a splendid view up a valley to the southward,
and of the low but sharply-crested chain which limits on the south the
area drained by the Musi. At the foot of this elevation a stream courses
southward to the Musi, and on its banks are a native village, and a
Dutch post and fort. Here, as elsewhere, I rode up to the house of the
_controleur_, whom I had previously notified of my coming. He had gone a
number of miles southward, to the limit of his district and the Pasuma
country, where I now learned a war was going on. His good lady was at
home, and to my great surprise, welcomed me in pure English. To be able
to converse in the interior of Sumatra, in my native tongue, was indeed a
pleasure I had not anticipated. The distance from Tanjong Agong to this
place is eleven paals, about ten miles.
_April 27th._—Continued down the north bank of the Musi, which here
flows to the northwest. For three or four paals the path (for it cannot
properly be styled a road) was very narrow, and built on the steep side
of a mountain, at the foot of which the Musi boils in a series of rapids.
When within six or seven miles of Tebing Tingi, we found the valley
much broken, and soon it became flat, and changed in many places into
morasses. Here we came to a small stream, over which was a bamboo bridge,
supported by rattans fastened to the limbs of two high, overhanging
trees. This was so weak that my guide directed me to dismount and pass on
foot. At 2 A. M. we arrived at Tebing Tingi, where an assistant resident
is stationed, who received me politely, and urged me to remain with him
several days. Distance made to-day, seventeen paals. The whole distance
from Kopaiyong to this place, forty-five paals, I have travelled with the
single horse given me by the _controleur_ of that village. Such is the
generous manner in which the Dutch officials treat those who come to them
properly recommended by the higher authorities.
After crossing the Barizan chain, and coming down into this valley of the
Musi, I have noticed that the natives are of a lighter color, taller, and
more gracefully formed than those seen in the vicinity of Bencoolen.
The men always carry a kris or a lance when they go from one kampong to
another. The same laws and customs prevail here as in the vicinity of
Bencoolen, except that the jugur, or price of a bride, is considerably
higher. The anak gadis here also wear many rings of large silver wire on
the forearm, and gold beads on the wrist, in token of their virginity.
The Resident states to me that the native population does not appear to
increase in this region, and that the high price of the brides is the
chief reason. As the price is paid to the girl’s parents, and not to
herself, she has less inducement to conduct herself in accordance with
their wishes; and, to avoid the natural consequences of their habits,
the anak gadis are accustomed to take very large doses of pepper, which
is mixed with salt, in order to be swallowed more easily. Many are never
married, and most of those who are, bear but two or three children, after
they have subjected themselves to such severe treatment in their youth.
_April 27th._—Rode five or six paals up the Musi, and then crossed it
at the foot of a rapid on a “racket,” or raft of bamboo, the usual mode
of ferrying in this island. In the centre of the raft is a kind of
platform, where the passenger sits. One native stands at the bow, and
one at the stern, each having a long bamboo. The racket is then drawn
up close to the foot of the rapids, and a man keeps her head to the
stream, while the other pushes her over. As soon as she leaves the bank,
away she shoots down the current, despite the shouts and exertions of
both. We were carried down so swiftly, that I began to fear we should
come into another rapid, where our frail raft would have been washed to
pieces among the foaming rocks in a moment; but at last they succeeded
in stopping her, and we gained the opposite bank. Thence my guide took
me through a morass, which was covered with a dense jungle, an admirable
place for crocodiles, and they do not fail to frequent it in large
numbers; but the thousands of leeches formed a worse pest. In one place,
about a foot square, in the path, I think I saw as many as twenty, all
stretching and twisting themselves in every direction in search of prey.
They are small, being about an inch long, and a tenth of an inch in
diameter, before they gorge themselves with the blood of some unfortunate
animal that chances to pass. They tormented me in a most shocking manner.
Every ten or fifteen minutes I had to stop and rid myself of perfect
anklets of them.
I was in search of a coral-stone, which the natives of this region burn
for lime. My attendants, as well as myself, were so tormented with the
leeches, that we could not remain long in that region, but I saw it was
nothing but a raised reef, chiefly composed of comminuted coral, in which
were many large hemispherical meandrinas. The strata, where they could be
distinguished, were seen to be nearly horizontal. Large blocks of coral
are scattered about, just as on the present reefs, but the jungle was too
thick to travel in far, and, as soon as we had gathered a few shells, we
hurried to the Musi, and rode back seven miles in a heavy, drenching rain.
All the region we have been travelling in to-day abounds in
rhinoceroses, elephants, and deer. If the leeches attack them as they
did a dog that followed us, they must prove one of the most efficient
means of destroying those large animals. It is at least fortunate for the
elephant and rhinoceros that they are pachyderms. While passing through
the places where the jungle is mostly composed of bamboos, we saw several
large troops of small, slate-colored monkeys, and, among the taller
trees, troops of another species of a light-yellow color, with long arms
and long tails. On the morning that I left Tanjong Agong, as we passed a
tall tree by the roadside, the natives cautioned me to keep quiet, for it
was “full of monkeys,” and, when we were just under it, they all set up
a loud shout, and at once a whole troop sprang out of its high branches
like a flock of birds. Some came down twenty-five or thirty feet before
they struck on the tops of the small trees beneath them, and yet each
would recover, and go off through the jungle, with the speed of an arrow,
in a moment.
While nearly all animals have a particular area which they frequent—as
the low coast region, the plateaus of these tropical lands, or the higher
parts of the mountains—the rhinoceros lives indifferently anywhere
between the sea-shores and the tops of the highest peaks. This species
has two “horns,” the first being the longer and more sharply pointed,
but the Java species has only one. The natives here know nothing of
the frequent combats between these animals and elephants, that are so
frequently pictured in popular works on natural history. The Resident
has, however, told me of a combat between two other rivals of these
forests that is more remarkable. When he was _controleur_ at a small
post, a short distance north of this place, a native came to him one
morning, and asked, if he should find a dead tiger and bring its head,
whether he would receive the usual bounty given by the government. The
Resident assured him that he would, and the native then explained that
there had evidently been a battle between two tigers in the woods, near
his kampong, for all had heard their howls and cries, and they were
fighting so long that, he had no doubt, one was left dead on the spot. A
party at once began a hunt for the expected prize, and soon they found
the battle had not been between two tigers, as they had supposed, but
between a tiger and a bear, and that both were dead. The bear was still
hugging the tiger, and the tiger had reached round, and fastened his
teeth in the side of the bear’s neck. The natives then gathered some
rattan, wound it round them, just as they were, strung them to a long
bamboo, and brought them to the office of the Resident, who gave a full
account of this strange combat in his next official report.
These bears are popularly called “sun” bears, _Helarctos Malayanus_,
from their habit of basking in the hot sunshine, while other bears slink
away from the full light of day into some shady place. The Resident at
Bencoolen had a young cub that was very tame. Its fur was short, fine,
and glossy. It was entirely black, except a crescent-shaped spot of white
on its breast, which characterizes the species.
Governor Raffles, while at Bencoolen, also had a tame one, which was
very fond of mangostins, and only lost its good-nature when it came to
the table, and was not treated with champagne. When fully grown, it is
only four and a half feet long. It is herbivorous, and particularly fond
of the young leaves of the cocoa-nut palm, and is said to destroy many of
those valuable trees to gratify its appetite.
_April 30th._—At 6 A. M. commenced the last stage of my journey on
horseback. My course now was from Tebing Tingi, on the Musi, in a
southeasterly direction, to Lahat, the head of navigation on the
Limatang. The distance between these two places is about forty paals,
considerably farther than it would be from Tebing Tingi down the Musi to
the head of navigation on that river; but I prefer to take this route, in
order to learn something of the localities of coal on the Limatang and
its branches, and of the unexplored Pasuma country. We crossed the Musi
on a raft, and at once the road took us into a forest, which continued
with little interruption all the way to Bunga Mas, a distance of
twenty-four paals. Most of this forest rises out of a dense undergrowth,
in which the creeping stems and prickly leaves of rattans were seen.
These are various species of _Calamus_, a genus of palms that has small,
reed-like, trailing stems, which are in strange contrast to the erect and
rigid trunks of the cocoa-nut, the areca, the palmetto, and other palms.
It seems paradoxical to call this a palm, and the high, rigid bamboo a
species of grass. When they are growing, the stem is sheathed in the
bases of so many leaves that it is half an inch in diameter. When these
are stripped off, a smooth, reed-like stem of a straw-color is found
within, which becomes yellow as it dries. The first half-mile of the road
we travelled to-day was completely ploughed up by elephants which passed
along two days ago during a heavy rain. The piles of their excrements
were so numerous that it seems they use it as a stall. Every few moments
we came upon their tracks. In one place they had completely brushed away
the bridge over a small stream, where they went down to ford it; for,
though they always try to avail themselves of the cleared road when they
travel to and fro among these forests, they are too sagacious to trust
themselves on the frail bridges.
In the afternoon, the small boughs which they had lately broken off
became more numerous as we advanced, and their leaves were of a livelier
green. We were evidently near a herd, for leaves wilt in a short time
under this tropical sun. Soon after, we came into a thicker part of the
forest, where many tall trees threw out high, overarching branches, which
effectually shielded us from the scorching sun, while the dry leaves they
had shed quite covered the road.
Several natives had joined us, for they always travel in company through
fear of the tigers. While we were passing through the dark wood, suddenly
a heavy crashing began in the thick jungle about twenty paces from where
I was riding. A native, who was walking beside my horse with my rifle
capped and cocked, handed it to me in an instant, but the jungle was so
thick that it was impossible to see any thing, and I did not propose
to fire until I could see the forehead of my game. All set up a loud,
prolonged yell, and the beast slowly retreated, and allowed us to proceed
unmolested. The natives are not afraid of whole herds of elephants, but
they dislike to come near a single one. The larger and stronger males
sometimes drive off all their weaker rivals, which are apt to wreak their
vengeance on any one they chance to meet. Beyond this was a more open
country, and in the road were scattered many small trees that had been
torn up by a herd, apparently this very morning.
Although they are so abundant here in Sumatra, there are none found in
Java. They occur in large numbers on the Malay Peninsula, and there is
good reason to suppose they exist in the wild state in the northern parts
of Borneo. This is regarded as distinct from the Asiatic and African
species, and has been named _Elephas Sumatrensis_.
Three paals before we came to Bunga Mas, a heavy rain set in and
continued until we reached that place. Our road crossed a number of
streams that had their sources on the flanks of the mountains on our
right, and in a short time their torrents were so swollen that my horse
could scarcely ford them. Bunga Mas is a _dusun_, or village, on a cliff
by a small river which flows toward the north. Near the village is a
stockade fort, where we arrived at half-past six. The captain gave me
comfortable quarters, and I was truly thankful to escape the storm and
the tigers without, and to rest after more than twelve hours in the
saddle.
This evening the captain has shown me the skin of a large tiger, which,
a short time since, killed three natives in four nights at this place.
The village is surrounded by a stockade to keep out these ravenous
beasts, and the gate is guarded at night by a native armed with a musket.
One evening this tiger stole up behind the guard, sprang upon him, and,
as a native said who chanced to see it, killed him instantly with a blow
of her paw on the back of his neck. She then caught him up and ran away
with him. The next day the body was found partly eaten, and was buried
very deeply to keep it out of her reach. The second evening she seized
and carried off a native who was bathing in the stream at the foot of the
cliff. The captain now found he must try to destroy her, and therefore
loaded a musket with a very heavy charge of powder and two bullets. The
gun was then lashed firmly to a tree, and a large piece of fresh meat was
fastened to the muzzle, so that when she attempted to take it away she
would discharge the piece, and receive both bullets. The next morning
they found a piece of her tongue on the ground near the muzzle of the
gun, and the same trap was set again; but the next night she came back
and took away a second man on guard at the gate of the _dusun_. The
captain now started with a corporal and eight men, determined to hunt her
down. They tracked her to a place filled with tall grass, and closing
round that, slowly advanced, until two or three of them heard a growl,
when they all fired and killed her instantly. It proved to be a female,
and she had evidently been so daring for the purpose of procuring food
for her young.
_May 1st._—The rain continued through the night, and only cleared away
at daylight. In two hours I started, though I found myself ill from such
continued exertion and exposure to a burning sun and drenching rains,
and, more than all, from drinking so many different kinds of water in a
single day. I was accompanied by a soldier who was one of the eight who
went out to hunt the tiger that killed so many natives in such a short
time. He repeated to me all the details of the whole matter, and assured
me that a piece of the brute’s tongue was found on the ground just as the
captain said, and that, when they had secured her, they found that a part
of her tongue was gone.
We had not travelled more than half a mile before we came upon the tracks
of two tigers, a large one and a small one, probably a female and her
young, which had passed along the road in the same way we were going.
The perfect impressions left by their feet showed they had walked along
that road since the rain had ceased, and therefore not more than two
hours before us, and possibly not more than ten minutes. We expected to
see them at almost every turn in the road, and we all kept together and
proceeded with the greatest caution till the sun was high and it was
again scorching hot. At such times these dangerous beasts always retreat
into the cool jungle.
For eight paals from Bunga Mas the road was more hilly than it was
yesterday. In many places the sides of the little valley between the
ridges were so steep that steps were made in the slippery clay for the
natives, who always travel on foot. Seven paals out, we had a fine
view of the Pasuma country. It is a plateau which spreads out to the
southeast and east from the feet of the great Dempo, the highest and most
magnificent mountain in all this region. The lower part of this volcano
appeared in all its details, but thick clouds unfortunately concealed
its summit. Considerable quantities of opaque gases are said to have
poured out of its crater, but it does not appear to have undergone any
great eruption since the Dutch established themselves in this region. It
is the most southern and eastern of the many active volcanoes on this
island. Like the Mérapi in the Padang plateau, the Dempo does not rise
in the Barizan chain nor in one parallel to it, but in a transverse
range. Here there is no high chain parallel to the Barizan, as there is
at Kopaiyong, where the Musi takes its rise, and also north of Mount Ulu
Musi continuously through the Korinchi country all the way to the Batta
Lands. Another and a longer transverse elevation appears in the chain
which forms the boundary between this residency of Palembang and that
of Lampong, and which is the water-shed, extending in a northeasterly
direction from Lake Ranau to the Java Sea. The height of Mount Dempo has
been variously estimated at from ten thousand to twelve thousand feet,
but I judge that it is not higher than the Mérapi, and that its summit
therefore is not more than nine thousand five hundred feet above the
level of the sea.
The Pasuma plateau is undoubtedly the most densely-peopled area in this
part of the island. Its soil is described to me, by those who have seen
it, as exceedingly fertile, and quite like that of the Musi valley at
Kopaiyong, but the natives of that country were extremely poor, while
the Pasumas raise an abundance of rice and keep many fowls. During the
past few years they have raised potatoes and many sorts of European
vegetables, which they sold to the Dutch before the war began. The cause
of the present difficulty was a demand made by the Dutch Government that
the Pasuma chiefs should acknowledge its supremacy, which they have
all refused to do. The villages or fortified places of the Pasumas are
located on the tops of hills, and they fight with so much determination
that they have already repulsed the Dutch once from one of their forts
with a very considerable loss. No one, however, entertains a doubt of the
final result of this campaign, for their fortifications are poor defences
against the mortars and other ordnance of the Dutch.
Soon after the tracks of the two tigers disappeared, we came to a kind of
rude stockade fort, where a guard of native militia are stationed. The
paling, however, is more for a protection against the tigers than the
neighboring Pasumas. A number of the guard told me that they hear the
tigers howl here every night, and that frequently they come up on the
hill and walk round the paling, looking for a chance to enter; and I have
no doubt their assertions were entirely true, for when we had come to the
foot of the hill the whole road was covered with tracks. The natives,
who, from long experience, have remarkable skill in tracing these beasts,
said that three different ones had been there since the rain ceased; but
one who has not been accustomed to examine such tracks would have judged
that half a dozen tigers had passed that way. There are but a few native
houses here at a distance from the villages in the ladangs, and those are
all perched on posts twelve or fifteen feet high, and reached by a ladder
or notched stick, in order that those dwelling in them may be safer from
the tigers.
At noon we came down into a fertile valley surrounded with mountains
in the distance, and at 2 P. M. arrived at Lahat, a pretty native
village on the banks of the Limatang. The _controleur_ stationed here
received me politely, and engaged a boat to take me down the Limatang
to Palembang. The Limatang takes its rise up in the Pasuma country, and
Lahat, being at the head of navigation on this river, is an important
point. A strong fort has been built here, and is constantly garrisoned
with one or two companies of soldiers. One night while I was there, there
was a general alarm that a strong body of Pasumas had been discovered
reconnoitring the village, and immediately every possible preparation
was made to receive them. The cause of the alarm proved to be, that one
of the Javanese soldiers stationed outside the fort stated that he saw
two natives skulking in the shrubbery near him, and that he heard them
consulting whether it was best to attack him, because, as was true, his
gun was not loaded. The mode of attack that the Pasumas adopt is to send
forward a few of their braves to set fire to a village, while the main
body remains near by to make attack as soon as the confusion caused by
the fire begins. This is undoubtedly the safest and most effectual mode
of attacking a kampong, as the houses of the natives are mostly of
bamboo, and if there is a fresh breeze and one or two huts can be fired
to windward, the whole village will soon be in a blaze. Though this
seems to us a dastardly mode of warfare, the Pasumas are justly famed
for their high sense of honor, their bitterest enemy being safe when he
comes and intrusts himself entirely to their protection. When the Dutch
troops arrived here, an official, who had frequently been up into their
country, volunteered to visit the various kampongs and try to induce them
to submit, and in every place he was well received and all his wants
cared for, though none of the chiefs would, for a moment, entertain his
proposals.
My journey on horseback was finished. The distance by the route taken
from Bencoolen is about one hundred and twenty paals, or one hundred and
twelve miles, but I had travelled considerably farther to particular
localities that were off the direct route. I had chanced to make the
journey at just the right time of year. The road is good enough for
padatis and to transport light artillery. For most of the time a tall,
rank grass fills the whole road except a narrow footpath, but the
government obliges the natives living near this highway to cut off the
grass and repair the bridges once a year, and I chanced to begin my
journey just as most of this work was finished. The bridges are generally
made of bamboo, and can therefore be used for only a short time after
they are repaired. Indeed, in many places, they are frequently swept away
altogether, and are not rebuilt until the next year. From what I have
already recorded, those who glory in hunting dangerous game may conclude
that they cannot do better than to visit this part of Sumatra. To reach
it they should come from Singapore to Muntok on the island of Banca, and
thence over to Palembang, where the Resident of all this region resides,
and obtain from him letters to his sub-officers in this vicinity. From
Palembang they should come up the Musi and Limatang to Lahat, when they
will find themselves in a most magnificent and healthy country, and one
literally abounding in game.
[Illustration: SINGAPORE.]
CHAPTER XVII.
PALEMBANG, BANCA, AND SINGAPORE.
_May 4th._—At 7 A. M. I bade my host, the _controleur_, good-by, and
began to glide down the Limatang for Palembang.
It was a cool, clear morning, and I enjoyed a fine view of Mount Dempo
and the other high peaks near it. The current at first was so rapid that
the only care of my men was, to keep the boat from striking on the many
bars of sand and shingle. To do this, one stood forward and one aft,
each provided with a long bamboo. We soon shot into a series of foaming
rapids, and here the river bent so abruptly to the right and left that I
thought we should certainly be dashed against a ragged, precipitous wall
of rock that formed the right bank at that place, but we passed safely
by, though the stern of the boat only passed clear by a few inches. My
boat was about twenty feet long and five broad, flat-bottomed, and made
of thin plank. Its central part was covered over with roof of atap, like
the sampans in China, and on this was another sliding roof, which could
be hauled forward to protect the rowers from rain or sunshine. From Lahat
to the mouth of the Inem River relays of natives stood ready on the bank
to guide our boat. This service they render the Dutch Government instead
of paying a direct tax in money.
A short distance below Lahat, on the right bank, is a remarkably
needle-like peak called Bukit Sirilo. Near this hill the Limatang makes
a long bend to the north, and after we had left it two or three miles
behind us I was quite surprised to find we had turned sharply round,
and that it was now two or three miles before us. A short distance
above the Sirilo we passed a fine outcropping of coal in the left bank.
The government engineers have examined it, and found it to be soft and
bituminous, but containing too large a proportion of incombustible matter
to be of any great value. The strata dip toward the coast. The Resident
of Tebing Tingi informed me that a similar coal is found on the Musi
below that place. I believe that strata of recent limestone, containing
corals, which I observed above Tebing Tingi, underlie this coal, and
that it is, therefore, of very recent geological age. At 4 P. M. we
came to Muara Inem, a large kampong of two thousand souls, on the Inem,
at its juncture with the Limatang. Here I had the pleasure of meeting
the _controleur_, whom I had met in the Minahassa, and who had been my
fellow-traveller from Celebes to Java. During the latter third of my way
down the Limatang to this point, the country is well peopled, and forms a
marked contrast with the sparsely-populated regions through which I have
been travelling since leaving Bencoolen.
At one kampong we saw three women in a small, flat-bottomed canoe, each
sitting erect and paddling with both hands. In this way they crossed the
river with a surprising rapidity, considering the simple apparatus they
used. The readiness with which they paddled indicated that this is no
very uncommon mode of crossing rivers in this land.
As the villages became larger and more frequent, more and more cocoa-nut
trees appeared, and soon we passed several large bamboo rafts, bearing
sheds that were filled with this fruit, and in one place two natives
were seen quietly floating down the river on a great pile of these nuts
in the most complacent manner. At first I expected to see the nuts fly
off in all directions and the men disappear beneath the surface of the
river, but as we came nearer I saw the nuts were fastened together in
small bunches by strips of their own husks, and these bunches were bound
into a hemispherical mass large enough to float the two men. The nuts on
the raft were to be taken down to Palembang, where the cocoa-palms do not
flourish. During the day we saw two or three large troops of monkeys.
This is a very pleasant time to pass down these rivers, because they are
now high, and instead of seeing only walls and bluffs of naked mud on
either hand, the banks are covered with grass down to the water’s edge,
and the bamboos and trees, that grow here in tropical luxuriance, lean
over gracefully toward the rapid river, and lave the tips of their lowest
branches in the passing current.
_May 5th._—The _controleur_ kindly took me in his large barge, with
twenty men to paddle and two men to steer, some five miles up the Inem
River to Lingga, where there is an outcropping of coal in the river
bank. The coal found there is very light, almost as soft as charcoal, and
evidently of a very recent geological age. A similar but somewhat better
coal is found five or six miles farther up this river. At Karang Tingi,
three miles up the river from Muara Inem, the rajah of that district
gave me a bottle of petroleum, which is about as thick as tar, and,
according to the examinations of the Dutch chemists, does not contain
much paraffine, naphtha, nor material suitable for burning in lamps. It
is found about six miles back from the river. At Karang Tingi we noticed
a number of boys enjoying an odd kind of sport. They were sliding down
the high slippery bank on their naked backs.
At Muara Inem the _controleur_ showed me a large garden filled with
trees, from which the “palm-oil” is manufactured. It is a low palm, and
the fruit is not much larger than the betel-nut. I understood him to say
that it was the _Elais Guineensis_, and had been introduced from the
Dutch possessions on the west coast of Africa. The oil is contained in
the husk, and is used in manufacturing soap and candles.
[Illustration: A VIEW ON THE RIVER LIMATANG, SUMATRA.]
_May 6th._—Very early this morning started with the _controleur_ down
the Limatang in his barge, with twenty men. During last night the river
rose here four or five feet, and the current is now unusually strong.
From Muara Inem, to where it empties into the Musi, it is very crooked,
constantly bending to the right in nearly equal curves, the current,
of course, being strongest in the middle of each bend. This constant
curving gives an endless variety to its scenery. The water, being high,
enabled us to see the cleared places that occurred from time to time on
the bank; though generally only a thick wood or dense jungle appeared on
either hand, yet I never for a moment was weary of watching the graceful
bending of the reeds and tall bamboos, and of the varied grouping of
these with large trees. In two places the river makes such long bends,
that artificial canals have been made across the tongues of land thus
formed. One of these cuts, which was less than a hundred yards long,
saved us going round half a mile by the river. Every four or five miles
we came to a large kampong, and exchanged our boatmen for new ones, so
that all day long we swiftly glided down the smooth stream, one relay
of men not getting weary before they were relieved by another, and the
strong current also helping us onward. The kampongs here are free from
the filth seen in those farther up in the interior. The houses are all
placed on posts five or six feet high, for sometimes the whole country
is completely flooded. Many of them are built of well-planed boards, and
have a roofing of tiles. When the sun had become low, we came to the
large kampong of Baruaiyu. At all these villages there is a raft with a
house upon it, where the boatmen waited for us. Fastening our boat to one
of these, we took up our quarters in the rajah’s house. Like those built
by our Puritan forefathers, it had one long roof and one short one, but
it was so low that a tall man could scarcely stand up in it anywhere. The
floor, instead of being level, rose in four broad steps, and the whole
building formed but one large apartment with two small rooms at the rear
end.
_May 7th._—A severe toothache and the bites and buzzing of thousands of
mosquitoes made me glad to see the dawn once more, and again be floating
down the river. Before we came to the chief village of each district,
where we were to exchange boatmen, we always met the boat of the rajah of
that place, and were greeted with shouts and a great din from tifas and
gongs.
The rajahs in this region are divided into three grades, and their
ranks are shown by the small hemispherical caps they wear. Those of the
highest rank have theirs completely covered with figures wrought with
gold thread; those of the second rank have theirs mostly covered with
such ornaments; and those of the third rank wear only a gold band. They
all carry krises of the common serpentine form. Those that have the wavy
lines alike on each side of the blade are regarded as the most valuable.
The handles are usually made of whale’s-teeth, and very nicely carved;
and the scabbards are frequently overlaid with gold. Those that have
been used by famous chiefs are valued at all sorts of enormous prices,
but are never sold. They also frequently wear a belt covered with large
diamond-shaped plates of silver, on which are inscribed verses of the
Koran, for the natives of this region are probably the most zealous and
most rigid Mohammedans in the archipelago.
The staple article of food here is rice. They also raise much cotton from
seed imported from our Southern States. Having gathered it from the
ripe bolls, they take out the seeds by running it between two wooden or
iron cylinders, which are made to revolve by a treadle, and are so near
together, that the seeds, which are saved for the next season, cannot
pass through. The fibres are very short, compared to the average product
raised in our country, but it serves a good purpose here, where they
make it into a coarse thread, which they weave by hand into a cloth for
kabayas and chilanas.
The marriage rites and laws here are nearly the same as those I have
already described at Taba Pananjong, except that the price of a bride
here is just that of a buffalo, or about eighty guilders (thirty-two
dollars). Unless a young man has a buffalo or other possessions of equal
value, therefore, he cannot purchase a wife. Near Baruaiyu there is a
peculiar people known as the Rembang people, who live in four or five
villages at some distance from the river. They are very willing to learn
to read and write their own language, but will not allow themselves to be
taught Dutch or Malay. Last night the river rose still higher, and now it
has overflowed its banks, which appear much lower than they are between
Lamat and Muara Inem. During the day we have had several showers. At 5 P.
M. we arrived at Sungi Rotan, the last village on the Lamatang before its
confluence with the Musi. It is a small and poor village, the land here
being generally too low for rice, and the cocoa-nut palms yielding but
little compared to what they do higher up. Farther down toward Palembang
they yield still less. This is the limit of the _controleur’s_ district
in this direction. It extends but a short distance up the Inem and up the
Limatang above Muara Inem, and yet it contains no less that ninety-one
thousand souls.
The _controleur_ came here to settle a difficulty between the people of
this and a neighboring village. The other party had occupied a portion
of the rice-lands belonging to this people, and the trouble had risen to
such a pitch, that the government had to interfere, to prevent them from
beginning a war. I said to the rajah that, beyond Lamat, I had passed for
miles through a beautiful country, and that it seemed to me he would do
well to migrate there; but he evidently disliked such a suggestion, and
the _controleur_ asked me not to urge him to adopt my view, for fear that
he might think the government designed sending him there, and because he
and all his people would rather die than go to live in any distant region.
_May 8th._—At 6½ A. M. started for Palembang. My own boat, which I sent
on directly from Muara Inem, arrived here yesterday a few hours before
us, having been three days in coming down the same distance that we
have made in two. We soon stopped at the request of one of the boatmen
to examine a small bamboo box which he had set in a neighboring bayou
for crawfish. Several were found in it. Their eyes seemed to emit
flashes of light, and appeared to be spherical jewels of a light-scarlet
hue. I found them palatable when roasted. The boatmen also found some
_Ampullariæ_, which they said they were accustomed to eat, and I found
them palatable also We soon floated out of the narrow Limatang into the
wide and sluggish Musi, and changed our course from north to east. There
are great quantities of rattan along the lower part of the Limatang and
the Musi, and the natives gather only a small fraction of what they might
if they were not so indolent. Last night, at Sungi Rotan, the mosquitoes
proved a worse pest than the night before, and they have continued to
annoy us all day.
In the afternoon I had a slight attack of fever, almost the only one
I have had since I was ill immediately after my arrival in Batavia, a
few days more than a year ago. After three large doses of quinine I
fell asleep, my boatmen saying that we should not reach Palembang till
morning, which entirely agreed with my own wishes, as I did not care to
call during the evening on the assistant Resident, whom I had already
notified of my coming. When the last dose had disappeared I soon became
oblivious to all real things, and was only troubled with the torturing
images seen in a fever-dream. While these hideous forms were still before
my mind’s eye, I was suddenly aroused by a loud noise, and, while yet
half awake, was dazzled by a bright light on the water, and, on looking
out, saw that we were near a large house. On the brilliantly-lighted
portico above us were festoons of flowers, and, while I was yet gazing
in wonder, inspiriting music sprang up and couple after couple whirled
by in the mazy waltz. I put my hand up to my head to assure myself that
I was not the victim of some hallucination, and my boatmen, apparently
perceiving my state of mind, informed me that we had arrived at
Palembang, and that a sister of one of the officials had lately been
married, and her brother was celebrating the happy occasion by giving a
grand “feast,” or, as we should say, a ball.
The bright light, the enlivening music, and the constant hum of happy
voices, instantly banished all possibility of my entertaining the thought
of remaining for the night in my dark, narrow cabin; and at once, with
no other light whatever than that reflected on the water from the bright
ballroom, I prepared myself to meet the Resident in full dress. He was
greatly surprised to see me at such a late hour, but received me in a
most cordial manner, and at once commenced introducing me to the host
and hostess, the bride and bridegroom, and all the assembled guests. The
chills and burning fever, from which I had been suffering, vanished,
and in a moment I found myself transferred from a real purgatory into a
perfect paradise.
[Illustration: WOMEN OF PALEMBANG.]
[Illustration: PALEMBANG—HIGH WATER.]
Palembang occupies both banks of the Musi for four or five miles, but
there are only three or four rows of houses on each bank. Many of these
houses were built on bamboo rafts, and, when the tide is high, the city
seems to be built on a plain, but at low water it appears to be built
in a valley. The tide here usually rises and falls nine or ten feet,
but in spring fourteen feet. This is the greatest rise and fall that I
have seen in the archipelago. It is said that in the river Rakan, which
empties into the Strait of Malacca, at spring tides the water comes in
with a bore and rises thirty feet. The principal part of Palembang
is built on the left bank. There are a large and well-constructed
fort, and the houses of the Resident, assistant Resident, and other
officials. The Resident and the colonel commanding the fort are now in
the Pasuma country. On the left bank is the Chinese quarter, and very
fine imitations of the more common tropical fruits are made there in
lacquer-ware by those people. Below the fort, on the right bank, is the
large market, where we saw a magnificent display of krises, and enormous
quantities of fruit. The name Palembang, or, more correctly, Palimbangan,
is of Javanese origin, and signifies “the place where the draining off
was done.” The “draining off” is the same phrase as that used to describe
water running out of the open-work baskets, in which gold is washed, and
the word Palembang is regarded generally as equivalent to “gold-washing”
in our language. The Javanese origin of the first settlers in this region
is farther shown by the title of the native officials and the names of
various localities in the vicinity. The natives have a tradition that
Palembang was founded by the Javanese government of Majapahit, but the
Portuguese state that it was founded two hundred and fifty years before
their arrival, or about A. D. 1250.
Back of the Resident’s house is a mosque with pilasters and a dome,
and near by a minaret, about fifty feet high, with a winding external
staircase. It is by far the finest piece of native architecture that
I have seen in these islands, and is said to be decidedly superior to
any of the old temples in Java. Its history appears to be lost, but
I judge it was built not long after the arrival of the Portuguese.
The architects were probably not natives, but the Arabs, who have
not only traded with this people, but succeeded in converting them
to Mohammedanism. Palembang Lama, or Old Palembang, is situated on
the left bank, a mile or two below the fort. Landing with the natives
under a waringin-tree, I followed a narrow path over the low land for
a mile, and came to the grave of a native queen. All possible virtues
are ascribed to her by the natives, and many were on their way to this
shrine to make vows and repeat their Mohammedan formulas, or were already
returning homeward. Those who were going stopped at a little village
by the way to purchase bunches of a kind of balm which they placed in
the tomb. After meeting with many worshippers, I was quite surprised to
find the grave was only protected by an old wooden building. The coffin
was a rectangular piece of wood, about a foot and a half wide, and five
feet long, in which was inserted at the head and foot a small square
post, about two feet high. Near the grave of the queen were those of
her nearest relatives. This is regarded as the oldest grave that can
be identified in this vicinity. It is supposed to have the power to
shield its worshippers from sickness and all kinds of misfortune. The
Mohammedanism of this people, therefore, even when it is purest, is
largely mingled with their previous superstitions.
Nearer Palembang we visited the tombs of later princes. A high wall
encloses several separate buildings from twenty to thirty feet square,
and surmounted by domes, and within are the coffins, much like that
already described. Other massive rectangular tombs are seen outside. None
of these appear to be very old.
From Palembang to the mouth of the Musi is about fifty miles, and yet
there is plenty of water for the largest steamers to come to the city.
The Musi is therefore the largest river in Sumatra; and Palembang gains
its importance from its position as the head of navigation on this river,
which receives into itself streams navigable for small boats for many
miles. On the south is the Ogan, which, in its upper part, flows through
a very fertile and well-peopled region, and which, from the descriptions
given me, I judge is a plateau analogous to that at Kopaiyong, near the
source of the Musi. This region of the Ogan produces much pepper. North
of the Musi is the country of the Kubus, who have been described to me
here and at Tebing-Tingi as belonging to the Malay race. They are said
to clothe themselves with bark-cloth, and to eat monkeys and reptiles
of all kinds. They shun all foreigners and other natives, and are very
rarely seen. They appear to be very similar in their personal appearance
and habits to the Lubus that I saw north of Padang, and perhaps form but
a branch of that people.[58] It was to this place that the author of the
“Prisoner of Weltevreden” came on his filibustering expedition, and was
seized and carried to Batavia, whence he escaped. The open-hearted and
generous manner in which I have been everywhere received and aided, both
by the government and by private persons, as has constantly appeared
on these pages, convinces me that any American, whose character and
mission are above suspicion, will be treated with no greater kindness
and consideration by any nation than by the Dutch in the East Indian
Archipelago.
_May 13th._—Took a small steamer for Muntok, on the island of Banca,
where the mail-boat from Batavia touches while on her way to Singapore.
Muntok is a very pretty village. The houses, which mostly belong to
Chinamen, are neatly built and well painted. The streets are kept in good
repair, and the whole place has an air of enterprise and thrift. Here I
had the pleasure of making the acquaintance of the chief mining engineer
on the island. One morning we rode out a few miles to a granite hill,
from the top of which I had a fine view over the Strait of Banca to the
low, monotonous coast of Sumatra. There are but few elevations on Banca,
and none of any considerable height. All are covered with a thick forest.
The rocks of which Banca is composed are chiefly granite, and a red,
compact sandstone or grit. The tin is disseminated in small particles
through the whole mass of granite, which has slowly disintegrated and
decomposed, and the clay and sand thus formed have been washed into the
nearest depressions. The tin, being the heaviest of these materials,
has settled near the bottom of each basin, when they have been somewhat
assorted by the action of water. The upper strata being removed, the
particles of tin are found in the lower strata, and obtained by washing,
just as in the process of washing similar alluvial deposits for gold.
When the beds of all the basins on the island have been thoroughly
washed, the yield of tin will be at an end, because it does not occur, as
at Cornwall, in veins in the granite, but only in small scattered grains.
The washing is almost wholly done by Chinese, who chiefly come from Amoy.
The income of Banca[59] has been for some time over three million
guilders per year, after deducting the salaries of all the officials on
the island, and the annual expense of the garrison. The chief engineer
thinks that about two-thirds of all the tin on the island has now been
taken out, but that the present yield will continue for some years, and a
less one for many years after. This tin-bearing range of granite begins
as far north on the west coast of the peninsula of Malacca as Tavoy. It
has been obtained at Tenasserim, and on the island of Junk Ceylon, and
large quantities are annually taken out at Malacca. It is also found on
the Sumatra side of the strait, in the district of Kampar. The range
reappears in the islands of Banca and Billiton, and again in Bali, at the
eastern end of Java.
_May 14th._—In the evening the steamer arrived from Batavia. For
fellow-passengers I found the captain and doctor of an English ship that
had lately been burned in the Strait of Sunda while bound from Amoy to
Demarara with a cargo of coolies. A passenger from her was also on board,
who had written a book on Cochin China, giving his experience while a
captive in that land.
_May 18th._—We continue, this morning, to pass small islands, and now, by
degrees, we are able to make out many ships and steamers at anchor in a
bay, and soon the houses by the bund or street bordering the shore begin
to appear. We are nearing Singapore. A year and fourteen days have passed
since I landed in Java. During that time I have travelled six thousand
miles over the archipelago, and yet I have not once set foot on any other
soil than that possessed by the Dutch, so great is the extent of their
Eastern possessions.
The activity and enterprise which characterize this city are very
striking to one who has been living so long among the phlegmatic
Dutchmen. Singapore, or, more correctly, Singapura, “the lion city,” is
situated on an island of the same name, which is about twenty-five miles
long from east to west, and fourteen miles wide from north to south.
When the English, in 1817, restored the archipelago to the Dutch, they
felt the need of some port to protect their commerce; and in 1819, by
the foresight of Sir Stamford Raffles, the present site of Singapore was
chosen for a free city. In seven years from that time its population
numbered 13,000; but has since risen to 90,000. Its imports have risen
from $5,808,000 in 1823 to $31,460,000 in 1863, and its exports from
$4,598,000 in 1823 to $26,620,000 in 1863.
As soon as I landed, I found myself among American friends, and one of
them kindly introduced me to the Governor of the Straits Settlements,
who received me in the most polite manner and kindly offered to assist me
in any way in his power. At my request, he gave me notes of introduction
to the Governor of Hong Kong and the admiral commanding her Majesty’s
fleet in the seas of China and Japan. A few days of rest after my long
journeys over Sumatra soon glided by, and I was ready to continue my
travels.
From Singapore my plan was to proceed directly to China, but finding in
port a French ship which was bound for Hong Kong, via Saigon, the capital
of Cochin China, I engaged a passage on her in order to see something
also of the French possessions in the East. Just as we were ready to
sail I met a gentleman who had lately returned from a long journey to
Cambodia, whither he had gone to photograph the ruins of the wonderful
temples in that land. He had a specimen for me, he said, which I must
accept before I knew what it was, a condition I readily complied with,
but when the “specimen” appeared I must confess I was not a little
surprised to find it was an enormous _python_. It had been caught by
the natives of Bankok after it had gorged itself on some unfortunate
beast, but that was some time before, and the brute was evidently ready
for another feast. My cans containing alcohol were already on board the
ship, but I took the monster with me when I went off to her late in the
evening, designing to drown it in its box and then transfer his snakeship
to a can. The captain, with the greatest politeness, met me at the rail,
and showed me my state-room in the after-cabin, and the sailors began
to bring my baggage, when first of all appeared the box containing the
python! I shouted out to the cabin-boy that that box must be left out on
deck, and then, in a low tone, explained to the captain that it contained
an enormous snake. “_Un serpent? un serpent?_” he exclaimed, raising up
both hands in horror, in such an expressive way as only a Frenchman can,
and proceeding to declare that he ought to have known that a passenger
who was a naturalist would be sure to fill the whole ship with all sorts
of venomous beasts. All the others were little less startled, and shunned
me in the half-lighted cabin, as if I were in league with evil spirits,
but I quieted their fears by ordering a sailor to put the box into a
large boat that was placed right side up on the main deck and promising
to kill the great reptile to-morrow.
_May 24th._—Early this morning we made sail, and I concluded to let my
troublesome specimen remain until we were out of the harbor, but now,
in the changing of the monsoons, the winds are light and baffling and
we finally came to anchor once more; and a sailor who got up into the
boat said something about “_le serpent_.” I was on the quarter-deck
at the time, and determining at once not to be troubled more with it,
jumped down on the main-deck, ran to the side of the boat, and seizing
the box gave it a toss into the sea, but just as it was leaving my
hands I thought to myself, “How light it is!” and the sailor said, “_Le
serpent n’est pas encore!—pas encore!_” We all looked over the ship’s
side and there was the box floating quietly away, and it was evident
that the monster had escaped. Every one then asked, “Where is he?” but
no one could tell. I assured the captain that he was in the box when I
put it on the sampan to come off to the ship. “Is he on board?” was the
next question from the mouths of all. We looked carefully in the boat
and round the deck, but could detect no trace of him whatever, and all,
except myself, came to the conclusion that he was not brought on board,
and then went back to their work. The box in which he had been confined
was about a foot and a half long by a foot high and a foot wide, and
over the top were four or five strips of board, each fastened at either
end with a single nail. On inquiring more closely, the sailor told me
that before I seized the box, the side with the slats was one of the
perpendicular sides, and had not been placed uppermost, as it ought to
have been. “Then,” I reasoned, “he is here on board somewhere beyond a
doubt, and I brought him here, and it’s my duty to find him and kill
him.”
[Illustration: KILLING THE PYTHON.]
We had four horses on deck, and the middle of the boat was filled with
hay for them, and under that it was probable the great reptile had
crawled away. In the bottom of the boat, aft, was a triangular deck, and,
as I climbed up a second time, I noticed that the board which formed the
apex of the triangle was loose, and moved a little to one side. Carefully
raising this, I espied, to my horror, the great python closely coiled
away beneath, the place being so small that the loose board rested on
one of his coils. I wore a thin suit, a Chinese baju, or loose blouse, a
pair of canvas shoes, and a large sun-hat. Throwing off my hat, that I
might go into the dreadful struggle unimpeded, I shouted out for a long
knife, knowing well that what I must try to do was to cut him in two, and
that he would attempt to catch my hand in his jaws, and, if he should
succeed in doing that, he would wind himself around me as quick as a man
could wind the lash of a long whip around a fixed stick, and certainly he
was large enough and strong enough to crush the largest horse. The cook
handed me a sharp knife, more than a foot long, and, holding the board
down with my feet, I thrust the blade through the crack, and, wrenching
with all my might, tried to break the great reptile’s back-bone, and
thus render all that part of the body behind the fracture helpless.
Despite my utmost efforts, he pulled away the knife, and escaped two or
three feet forward, where there was more room under the deck. By this
time there was the greatest confusion. The captain, evidently believing
that discretion is the better part of valor, ran below the moment he was
satisfied that I had indeed discovered the monster, seized a brace of
revolvers, and, perching himself upon the monkey-rail, leaned his back
against the mizzen-rigging, and held one in each hand, ready to fire into
the boat at the slightest alarm. The sailors all gathered round the boat,
and stood perfectly still, apparently half-stupified, and not knowing
whether it would be safest for them to stand still, climb up in the
rigging, or jump overboard. The first mate armed himself with a revolver,
and climbed on to the stern of the boat. Indeed, every moment I expected
to hear a report, and find myself shot by some of the brave ones behind
me. The second mate, who was the only real man among them all, seized
a large sheath-knife, and climbed into the boat to help me. I knew it
would not do to attempt to strike the monster with a knife where he had
room enough to defend himself; I therefore threw it down, and seized a
short handspike of iron-wood, the only weapon within my reach, and told
the second mate to raise the deck, and I would attempt to finish my
antagonist with the club, for the thought of escaping while I could, and
leave for others to do what belonged to me, never entered my mind. As the
deck rose I beheld him coiled up about two feet and a half from my right
foot. Suffering the acutest agony from the deep wound I had already given
him, he raised his head high out of the midst of his huge coil, his red
jaws wide open, and his eyes flashing fire like live coals. I felt the
blood chill in my veins as, for an instant, we glanced into each other’s
eyes, and both instinctively realized that one of us two must die on that
spot. He darted at my foot, hoping to fasten his fangs in my canvas shoe,
but I was too quick for him, and gave him such a blow over the head and
neck that he was glad to coil up again. This gave me time to prepare to
deal him another blow, and thus for about fifteen minutes I continued to
strike with all my might, and three or four times his jaws came within
two or three inches of my canvas shoe. I began now to feel my strength
failing, and that I could not hold out more than a moment longer, yet,
in that moment, fortunately, the carpenter got his wits together, and
thought of his broad-axe, and, bringing it to the side of the boat, held
up the handle, so that I could seize it while the reptile was coiling
up from the last stunning blow. The next time he darted at me I gave
him a heavy cut about fifteen inches behind his head, severing the body
completely off, except about an inch on the under side, and, as he coiled
up, this part fell over, and he fastened his teeth into his own coils.
One cut more, and I seized a rope, and, in an instant, I tugged him over
the boat’s side, across the deck, and over the ship’s rail into the sea.
The long trail of his blood on the deck assured me that I was indeed
safe, and, drawing a long breath of relief, I thanked the Giver of all
our blessings.
This was my last experience in the tropical East. A breeze sprang up, and
the ship took me rapidly away toward the great empire of China, where I
travelled for a year, and passed through more continued dangers and yet
greater hardships than in the East Indian Archipelago.
[Illustration: Map _To Illustrate Mr. Bickmore’s Travels_ IN THE EASTERN
ARCHIPELAGO
Edwᵈ Weller]
APPENDIX A.
_Area of the Principal Islands, according to Baron Melville van Carnbée._
Square English
geographical miles.
Java and Madura 38,251.2
Sumatra 128,560.0
Pulo Nias 1,200.0
Babi 480.0
Pagi 560.0
Banca 3,568.0
Billiton 1,904.0
Borneo 203,888.0
Celebes 57,248.0
Buton 1,379.2
Bali 16,848.0
Lombok 16,560.0
Sumbawa 4,448.0
Floris 4,032.0
Timur 9,808.0
Sandal-wood Island 3,784.0
Tenimber Islands 2,400.0
Aru Islands 1,040.0
Islands of Banda 17.6
Ceram 4,944.0
Buru 2,624.0
Gilolo 5,016.0
Bachian 800.0
Ternate 11.2
Amboina 2,128.0
---------
Total area of the Netherlands
India 445,411.2
APPENDIX B.
_Population of the Netherlands India, 1865._
-------------------------+----------+----------+--------+------+--------+
| | | | | Other |
ISLANDS. |Europeans.| Natives. |Chinese.|Arabs.|Eastern |
| | | | |nations.|
-------------------------+----------+----------+--------+------+--------+
Java and Madura | 27,105|13,704,535| 156,192| 6,764| 22,772|
“West Coast” of Sumatra, | | | | | |
including the islands | | | | | |
from Nias to the Pagis | 1,188| 872,173 | 3,172| 54| 1,110|
Residency of Bencoolen | 174| 119,691| 596| 6| 47|
” Lampong | 52| 88,113| 180| 8| 4,666|
” Palembang | 182| 622,345| 2,790| 1,716| 67|
Banca | 116| 37,070| 17,097| 56| |
Billiton | 34| 12,786| 1,781| | 1,223|
Rhio | 136| 10,454| 19,972| 2| 119|
Borneo (the parts under | | | | | |
the Dutch Government) | 328| 802,889| 26,393| 1,736| 597|
Celebes | 1,176| 292,619| 4,385| 42| |
Residency of Amboina | 1,219| 104,841| 311| 85| 817|
” Banda | 545| 5,876| 153| 12| |
” Ternate | 732| 2,062| 427| 70| |
The Minahassa | 550| 102,423| 1,437| 11| |
Timur | 190| Unknown.| 752| 3| |
Bali and Lombok | | 863,725| | | |
+----------+----------+--------+------+--------+
Total | 33,677|17,641,602| 235,535|10,565| 31,424|
-------------------------+----------+----------+--------+------+--------+
-------------------------+------------
|
ISLANDS. | Total.
|
-------------------------+------------
Java and Madura | 13,917,368
“West Coast” of Sumatra, |
including the islands |
from Nias to the Pagis | 877,703
Residency of Bencoolen | 120,514
” Lampong | 93,019
” Palembang | 527,050
Banca | 54,339
Billiton | 15,824
Rhio | 30,683
Borneo (the parts under |
the Dutch Government) | 931,843
Celebes | 298,222
Residency of Amboina | 107,273
” Banda | 6,586
” Ternate | 3,291
The Minahassa | 104,418
Timur | 945
Bali and Lombok | 863,725
+------------
Total | 17,952,803
-------------------------+------------
APPENDIX C.
_A Table of Heights of the Principal Mountains in the Archipelago._
Height in
Place. Eng. feet.
AMBOINA.
Salhutu (highest peak on the island) 4,010
TERNATE (peak of) 5,510
TIDORE (peak of) 5,440
MINAHASSA.
Mount Klabat 6,560
Mount Sudara 4,390
Mount Batu Angus 2,290
Mount Lokon 5,140
Mount Massarang 4,150
Mount Tompasso 3,850
Mount Saputan 5,960
Mount Mahawut 4,170
Mount Sempo 4,900
Mount Katawak 3,970
Mount Kawin 3,430
Lake of Tondano 2,272
HEIGHTS IN JAVA.
Mount Krawang 5,771
Salak 7,244
Mandalawangi 9,940
Gedeh 9,750
Sedaratu 9,591
Alun-alun 9,100
Papandayang 7,477
Pasir Alang 8,387
Taman Saāt 7,908
Chikorai 9,233
Telaga Bodas 5,874
Highest edge of Galunggong 5,320
Galunggong 3,825
Slamat 11,329
Sindoro 10,316
Merbabu 10,219
Sumbing 10,947
Lawu 10,727
Dorowati 8,480
Kawi 9,408
Arjuno 10,947
Sémiru 12,235
Budolembu, highest peak in the Tenger Mountains 8,705
Boromo 7,545
Ajang 9,896
Raon 10,177
HEIGHTS IN SUMATRA.
Padang Hill (Apenberg) 341
Kayu Tanam 403
Padang Panjang 2,432
Fort Gugur Sigandang, the highest point on the _col_
between Singalang and Mérapi 3,677
From this place to Matua is the plateau of Agam—Matua is 3,389
Bambang 2,028
Pisang 1,685
Kumpodang (where we crossed the brook and found a
_controleur_ making a bridge, etc.) 670
Bondyol 735
Water-shed just before coming to Libu Siképing 2,132
Libu Siképing 1,511
Rau 972
Water-shed between Rau and Kota Nopan 2,132
That above Kota Nopan 1,351
Water-shed between Tobing and Uraba 2,451
Last hills crossed before coming down to Eik Bediri 600 to 800
Dundgus Nasi (island passed in coming from Siboga) 800
Mount Talang (Crawfurd’s Dictionary) 10,500
Mount Singalang 9,634
Mount Mérapi 9,570
Mount Sago, about 5,862
Mount Ophir 9,770
Mount Kalabu (west of Rau) 5,115
Mount Seret Mérapi 5,860
Mount Pitya Kéling 680
Lubu Rajah 6,234
Height of the plateau of Toba, about 4,000
Sinkara, greatest depth 1,193
Bottom of Silindong Valley 3,144
Bukit Gedang, the edge of the old crater crossed in going down
to Manindyu 3,624
Lake of Manindyu 1,541
Tanjong Alam, on the road from Fort van der Capellen to Paya
Kombo 3,428
Paya Kombo 1,704
Height of Silindong Valley (_e. g._, at Uta Galong) 3,144
Height of Toba Valley about 4,000
Mount Indrapura, estimated at 12,255
Mount Lusé, in the territory of Achin, in 3° 40′ N. (Crawfurd) 11,250
Mount Lombok, according to Melville van Carnbée, by
triangulation, about 12,363
APPENDIX D.
_Coffee sold by the Government at Padang._
------+-----------------+-------------------+---------------
YEAR. | Total quantity. | Exported to U. S. | Average price.
------+-----------------+-------------------+---------------
| _Piculs._ | _Piculs._ | _Guilders._
1856 | 125,000 | 65,521 | 30.84
1857 | 150,000 | 6,037 | 33.78
1858 | 185,000 | 72,010 | 25.25
1859 | 145,000 | 46,285 | 32.09
1860 | 151,000 | 19,536 | 34.59
1861 | 150,000 | 18,715 | 34.67
1862 | 135,000 | 15,971 | 41.15
1863 | | 23,745 |
1864 | 164,400 | 48,543 | 39.56
------+-----------------+-------------------+---------------
APPENDIX E.
_Trade of Java and Madura during 1864._
------------------------------------------+---------------+-----------
COUNTRIES. | No. of ships. | Tonnage.
------------------------------------------+---------------+-----------
ARRIVALS. | |
From Holland | 197 | 143,250
From other parts of Europe | 69 | 34,193
From the United States | 24 | 12,610
From the Cape of Good Hope | 7 | 4,132
From India | 18 | 9,060
From China, Manilla, and Siam | 128 | 45,067
From Mauritius | 4 | 1,034
From Japan | 4 | 843
From Australia | 68 | 29,548
From the eastern parts of the archipelago | 2,138 | 141,462½
+---------------+----------
Total | 2,657 | 423,083½
+===============+==========
DEPARTURES. | |
For Holland | 396 | 267,260
For other parts of Europe | 9 | 3,338
For the United States | 3 | 2,258
For India | 8 | 4,755
For China, Manilla, and Siam | 73 | 22,508
For Japan | 5 | 1,878
For Australia | 20 | 4,338
For the eastern parts of the archipelago | 2,245 | 151,066½
+===============+==========
Total | 2,759 | 577,401½
------------------------------------------+---------------+----------
[Illustration: TOMB OF THE SULTAN—PALEMBANG.
_See page 131._]
APPENDIX F.
_A List of the Birds collected by the Author on the island of Buru._
_Pandion leucocephalus_, Gould, B. of Aust., vol. i., pl. 6.
_Baza Rheinwardtii_, Schleg. and Müll., P.Z.S.,[60] 1860, p. 342.
_Tinnunculus moluccensis_, Hornb. and Jacq., P.Z.S., 1860, p. 343.
_Ephialtes leucoapila_, Gray, P.Z.S., 1860, p. 344.
_Caprimulgus macrourus_, Horsf., P.Z.S., 1863, p. 22.
_Hirundo javanica_, Sath., P.Z.S., 1860, p. 345.
_Cypselus mystaceus_, Sess., P.Z.S., 1863, p. 22.
_Eurystomus pacificus_, Gray, P.Z.S., 1863, p. 25.
_Todiramphus collaris_, Bon., P.Z.S., 1863, p. 23.
_Todiramphus sanctus_, Bon., P.Z.S., 1863, p. 23.
_Alcyone pusilla_, Gould, B. of Aust., vol. ii., pl. 26.
_Nectarinia zenobia_, Gray, P.Z.S., 1863, p. 32.
_Nectarinia proserpina_, Wall., P.Z.S., 1863, p. 32.
_Dicæum erythothorax_, Sess., P.Z.S., 1863, p. 32.
_Tropidorynchus bouruensis_, Wall., P.Z.S., 1863, p. 31.
_Acrocephalus australis_, Gould, B. of Aust., vol. iii., pl. 37.
_Sylvia flavescens_, Gray, P.Z.S., 1860, p. 349.
_Cysticola rustica_, Wall., P.Z.S., 1863, p. 25.
_Cysticola ruficeps_, Gould, B. of Aust., vol. iii., pl. 45.
_Motacilla flavescens_, Shaw, P.Z.S., 1860, p. 350.
_Criniger mysticalis_, Wall., P.Z.S., 1863, p. 28.
_Mimeta bouruensis_, Wall., P.Z.S., 1863, p. 26.
_Rhipidura tricolor_, Gray, P.Z.S., 1860, p. 351.
_Rhipidura bouruensis_, Wall., P.Z.S., 1863, p. 29.
_Rhipidura_, sp.
_Monarcha loricata_, Wall., P.Z.S., 1863, p. 29.
_Musicapa_, sp.
_Camphega marginata_, Wall., P.Z.S., 1863, p. 31.
_Artaurus leucogaster_, Gray, P.Z.S., 1860, p. 354.
_Dicrurus amboinensis_, Gray, P.Z.S., 1860, p. 354.
_Calornis obscura_, Gray, P.Z.S., 1860, p. 355.
_Calornis metallica_, Bon., P.Z.S., 1860, p. 355.
_Munia molucca_, Blyth, P.Z.S., 1860, p. 355.
_Platycercus dorsalis_, Quoy and Gaim, (_P. hypophonius_, Gray)
P.Z.S., 1860, p. 356.
_Eos rubra_, Wagl., P.Z.S., 1860, p. 356.
_Trichoglossus cyanogrammus_, Wagl., P.Z.S., 1860, p. 357.
_Eclectus puniceus_, Gm., P.Z.S., 1860, p. 357.
_Eclectus polychlorus_, Scop., P.Z.S., 1860, p. 358.
_Tanygnathus affinis_, Wall., P.Z.S., 1863, p. 20.
_Geoffroius personatus_, Gray, P.Z.S., 1860, p. 358.
_Eudynornis ramsomi_, Bon., P.Z.S., 1860, p. 359.
_Centropus medius_, Müll., P.Z.S., 1863, p. 23.
_Cuculus caroides_, Müll., P.Z.S., 1860, p. 359.
_Cuculus assimilis_, Gray, P.Z.S., 1858, p. 184.
_Cacaomantis sepulchris_, Bon., P.Z.S., 1860, p. 359.
_Ptilonopus superbus_, Steph., P.Z.S., 1858, p. 184.
_Ptilonopus prassinorrhous_, Gray, P.Z.S., 1858, p. 185.
_Ptilonopus viridis_, Gm., P.Z.S., 1863, p. 34.
_Treron aromatica_, Gray, P.Z.S., 1863, p. 33.
_Carpophaga perspicillata_, Gray, P.Z.S., 1860, p. 360.
_Carpophaga melanura_, Gray, P.Z.S., 1860, p. 361.
_Macropygia amboinensis_, Gray, P.Z.S., 1860, p. 361.
_Macropygia_, sp.
_Chalcophaps moluccensis_, Gray, P.Z.S., 1860, p. 361.
_Megapodius Forsteri_, Temm., P.Z.S., 1860, p. 362.
_Megapodius Wallacii_, Gray, P.Z.S., 1860, p. 362.
_Glareola grallaria_, Temm., P.Z.S., 1863, p. 35.
_Ardetta flavicollis_, Sath., Gould, B. of Aust., vol. vi., pl. 65.
_Ardea novæ-hollandiæ_, Sath., Gould, B. of Aust., vol. vi., pl. 53.
_Herodias immaculata_, Gould, B. of Aust., vol. vi., pl. 58.
_Butorides javanica_, Blyth, P.Z.S., 1863, p. 35.
_Limosa uropygialis_, Gould, B. of Aust., vol. vi., pl. 29.
_Sphoeniculus magnus_, Gould, B. of Aust., vol. vi., pl. 33.
_Sphoeniculus subarquatus_, Gould, B. of Aust., vol. vi., pl. 32.
_Sphoeniculus albescens_, Gould, B. of Aust., vol. vi., pl. 31.
_Actitis empusa_, Gould, B. of Aust., vol. vi., pl. 31.
_Totanus griseopygius_, Gould, B. of Aust., vol. vi., pl. 38.
_Numenius uropygialis_, Gould, B. of Aust., vol. vi., pl. 43.
_Gallinula mystacina_, Temm.
_Rallus pectoralis_, Cuv., Gould, B. of Aust., vol. vi., pl. 76.
_Rallus_, sp.
_Dendrocygna guttulata_. Gray, P.Z.S., 1863, p. 36.
_Sterna velox_, Rüpp., P.Z.S., 1860, p. 366.
_Sula fusca_, Gould, B. of Aust., vol. vii., pl. 78.
NOTE.—For lists of birds collected on the Banda Isles, Ternate, and
Celebes, see ‘Proceedings of the Boston Society of Natural History.’
For a list of the shells collected in the Moluccas and other scientific
papers, see ‘Memoirs and Proceedings of the Boston Society of Natural
History,’ and the ‘American Journal of Science for 1868,’ _et seq._
FOOTNOTES
[1] Valentyn, “History of the Moluccas.”
[2] The population of the Residency of Samarang, which includes the city,
is 1,020,275. Of these 5,162 are Europeans, 1,001,252 are natives, 11,441
are Chinese, 438 are Arabs, and 1,982 are from other Eastern nations. In
these figures the military are not included.
[3] The population of the Residency of Surabaya, which also includes
that of the city of the same name, is 1,278,600. Of these, 5,124 are
Europeans, 1,261,271 are natives, 7,603 are Chinese, 1,477 are Arabs, and
3,125 are from other Eastern nations.
[4] Crawfurd’s Dict. Ind. Arch.
[5] Crawfurd’s Dict. Ind. Arch., “Hindustan.”
[6] For the history of the culture-system and government in the
Netherlands India, consult Money’s “Java.”
[7] During 1865 the government sold 250,000 piculs (16,666 tons) of
sugar, but the total exported from Java was two million piculs.
[8] Our word sugar comes from the Arabic _sakar_, and that from the
Sanscrit _sarkara_, thus indicating in its name how it first came to be
known to Europeans.
[9] Mr. Crawfurd states that it is a similar product made from the sap
of the Palmyra palm (_Borassus flabelliformis_), and not the sugar of
the cane, that forms the saccharine consumption of tropical Asia, i. e.,
among the Cochin-Chinese, the Siamese, the Burmese, and the inhabitants
of Southern India, including the Telinga nation who introduced Hinduism
and Sanscrit names among these people, and probably were the first to
teach them how to obtain sugar from the sap of palm-trees.
[10] The prices obtained for it are established as follows: On Madura and
the north coast of Java, 6.92 guilders; on the south coast, 5.92 gl.;
at Bencoolen, Padang, and Priaman, on the west coast of Sumatra, 6.66¾
gl.; Ayar Bangis and Natal, 6 gl.; Palembang, 5.10 gl.; Banca, 6.72 gl.;
Bandyermassin, 6.66 gl.; Sambas and Pontianak, 5.10 gl.
[11] Of this number 27,105 are Europeans; 13,704,535 are natives; 156,192
are Chinese; 6,764 are Arabs; and 22,772 are from other Eastern nations.
See Appendix B.
[12] For a list of the number of ships that arrived during 1864, their
tonnage, and the countries from which they came, see Appendix E.
[13] Albinos are occasionally found among these animals. For a long
time previous to 1840 there was a famous “white deer” on the coast at
Antju, in the vicinity of Batavia. Many attempts were made to shoot it,
and these invariably proved so unsuccessful, that the natives, finding
they had an opportunity to give way to their insatiable love for the
marvellous, were all fully convinced that this animal was invulnerable.
It was, however, shot at last, and proved to be of a gray, rather than
a pure white. In 1845 a young one of a pure white color was caught at
Macassar.
[14] Jão de Barros, who wrote a classical history of the regions
discovered and conquered by the Portuguese in the East, was born in
1496, and died in 1570. He never visited the Indies, but carefully and
faithfully compiled his descriptions from the official records, which
were all intrusted to his care, in 1532. The first decade of his work was
published in 1552, the second in 1553, the third in 1563, and the fourth
after his death. He was, therefore, a contemporary of most of the early
navigators whose history he narrates.
[15] Diogo de Cauto, who wrote the “Asia Portuguesa,” was born in Lisbon
in 1542, and died at Goa, the Portuguese capital of India, in 1616, at
the age of seventy-four. It is believed that he went to India at the
age of fourteen, and, after having lived there in the army ten years,
returned to Portugal, but soon after went back, and continued there
till his death. It is probable that he never visited any part of the
archipelago himself, but obtained from others the information he gives us.
[16] The early kings of Macassar boasted that they descended from the
Tormanurong, who, according to their legends, had this miraculous history
as given in Pinkerton’s “Voyages,” vol. ii., p. 216. In the earliest
times, it happened that a beautiful woman, adorned with a chain of gold,
descended from heaven, and was acknowledged by the Macassars as their
queen. Upon hearing of the appearance on earth of this celestial beauty,
the King of Bantam made a long voyage to that land, and sought her hand
in marriage, though he had before wedded a princess of Bontain. His suit
was granted, and a son was begotten in this marriage, who was two or
three years old before he was born, so that he could both walk and talk
immediately after his birth, but he was very much distorted in shape.
When he was grown up, he broke the chain of gold which his mother had
brought from heaven into two pieces, after which she, together with her
husband, vanished in a moment, taking with her one half the chain, and
leaving the other half and the empire to her son. This chain, which the
Macassars say is sometimes heavy and sometimes light, at one time dark
colored and at another bright, was ever afterward one of the regalia of
the kings until it was lost in a great revolution.
[17] Odoardo Barbosa (in Spanish, Balbosa) was a gentleman of Lisbon,
who travelled in the East during his youth. From his writings it
appears probable that he visited Malacca before it was conquered by
the Portuguese in 1511. His work appeared in 1516. In 1519 he joined
Magellan, and was treacherously murdered by the natives of Zebu, one of
the Philippines, in 1521, four days after the great navigator, whom he
accompanied, had suffered a like fate.
[18] Mr. Wallace estimated the value of the goods carried there from
Macassar alone at 200,000 guilders (80,000 dollars), and those brought
from other places at 50,000 guilders (20,000 dollars) more.
[19] The name of this island comes from the Portuguese word _flor_, a
flower; plural, _floris_.
[20] The Rajah of Sangir, a village from twelve to fifteen miles
southeast of the volcano, was an eye-witness of this fearful phenomenon,
and thus describes it: “About 7 P. M., on the 10th of April, three
distinct columns of flame burst forth, near the top of Tomboro Mountain,
all of them apparently within the verge of the crater; and, after
ascending separately to a very great height, their tops united in the
air in a troubled, confused manner. In a short time the whole mountain
next Sangir appeared like a body of liquid fire, extending itself in
every direction. The fire and columns of flame continued to rage with
unabated fury until the darkness, caused by the quantity of falling
matter, obscured it at about 8 P. M. Stones at this time fell very thick
at Sangir, some of them as large as a man’s two fists, but generally not
larger than walnuts. Between 9 and 10 P. M. ashes began to fall; and soon
after, a violent whirlwind ensued, which blew down nearly every house in
the village of Sangir, carrying their tops and light parts along with it.
In that part of the district of Sangir adjoining Tomboro, its effects
were much more violent, tearing up by the roots the largest trees, and
carrying them into the air, together with men, houses, cattle, and
whatever else came within its influence. The sea rose nearly twelve feet
higher than it had ever been known to do before, and completely spoiled
the only small spots of rice-lands in Sangir, sweeping away houses and
every thing within its reach.”
[21] “Native Races of the East Indian Archipelago, Papuans,” by George
Windsor Earl, M. R. A. S. London, 1853.
[22] Possibly the “spots,” of which Mr. Earl speaks, may have been caused
by some disease, for spots of a lighter hue than the general color of the
body are often seen among all Malays. Both the straight-haired Malaysians
and the frizzled-haired Melanesians have the odd custom of rubbing _lime_
into their hair, which gives it a dull-yellowish or reddish tinge.
Mr. Earl, however, states that he has seen one native whose hair was
naturally _red_, a kind of partial albinoism.
[23] Mr. Jukes remarks, and I believe, most correctly, that “if the term
‘jura kalk’ is applied lithologically to these tertiary rocks, it is to
a certain extent applicable, as they have a concretionary and oölitic
structure. If, however, it is meant to have a chronological meaning, it
is either incorrectly applied, or the formation is incorrectly extended
on the map to the neighborhood of Kupang.”
[24] “Voyage of the Dourga in 1825 and 1826,” by Captain Kloff,
translated by G. W. Earl.
[25] A paal, the unit of measure on land in the East Indian Archipelago,
is fifteen sixteenths of a statute mile.
[26] The Dutch name for this tree and its fruit is cacao. Our word
chocolate comes from the Spanish “chocolate,” which was a mixture of the
fruit of this tree with Indian corn. These were ground up together, and
some honey was usually added. After sugar-cane was introduced, that was
also added to neutralize the bitter qualities of the cocoa.
[27] This name must not be confounded with that of the cocoa-nut-tree,
or _Cocos nucifera_, which is a palm. The word cocoa is supposed to have
been derived from the Portuguese word _macoco_ or _macaco_, a monkey, and
to have been applied to the cocoa-nut palm, from a fancied resemblance
between the end of the shell, where the three black scars occur, and the
face of a monkey.
[28] Francis Valentyn, the author of the most comprehensive and accurate
history and description of the Dutch possessions in all the East, was
a Lutheran clergyman. He was born at Dordrecht, about the year 1660.
In 1686 he arrived at Data via as a minister, and having resided some
time at Japara, near Samarang, he was transferred to Amboina, the future
field of his ministry and literary labors. After a residence of twelve
years in the Spice Islands, he was obliged to return home on account
of ill-health. Having remained in Holland for eleven years, he sailed
a second time for India in 1705. Arriving at Java, he remained on that
island for two years, and then proceeded to the Spice Islands, where
he resided for seven years, and in 1714 he returned again to Holland.
Immediately after his arrival he devoted himself to arranging his copious
notes for publication. His first volume was published in 1724; this was
followed by seven others, all fully illustrated, the last appearing in
1726. They embrace a complete description and history of all the Dutch
possessions from the Cape of Good Hope to Japan. The date of the death of
this eminent man is not known, but he must have been in his sixty-sixth
year when he finished his great work.
[29] According to official statements, the total yield from 1675 to 1854
was 100,034,036 Amsterdam pounds.
[30] De Cauto, who visited these islands in 1540, says: “The Persians
call the clove _calafur_, and speaking on this matter, with permission
of the physicians, it appears to us that the _carofilum_ of the Latin is
corrupted from the _calafur_ of the Moors (Arabs), for they have some
resemblance. And as this drug passed into Europe through the hands of the
Moors with the name _calafur_, it appears the Europeans did not change
it. The Castilians (Spaniards) called cloves _gilope_, because they came
from the island of Gilolo (probably one of the chief sources of this
article at that time). The people of the Moluccas call them _chanqué_.
The Brahmin physicians first called them _lavanga_, but afterward gave
them the Moorish name. Generally all nations give them a name of their
own, as we have done; for the first of us (the Portuguese) that reached
these islands (the Moluccas), taking them in their hands, and observing
their resemblance to iron nails, called them _cravo_, by which they are
now so well known in the world.”
[31] In 1855 the population of the islands east of Amboina was thus
divided, and so little change has occurred that these figures closely
represent the relative numbers of each class at the present time:
---------+----------+--------+------------------------+-------+--------
Islands. |Mestizoes.|Burgers.| Villagers. |Slaves.| Total.
| | +-----------+------------+ |
| | |Christians.|Mohammedans.| |
---------+----------+--------+-----------+------------+-------+--------
Haruku | 88 | 288 | 3,204 | 3,544 | 64 | 7,188
Saparua | 162 | 2,912 | 7,340 | 1,154 | 97 | 11,665
Nusalaut | 4 | 63 | 3,386 | | 26 | 3,479
---------+----------+--------+-----------+------------+-------+--------
[32] In 1854 the western part that is included in the residency of Hila
was supposed to contain a population of two thousand four hundred and
sixty-eight; the middle peninsula and the bay visited on this voyage,
twenty-four thousand one hundred and ninety-four; the northern coast
under Wahai, forty thousand nine hundred and twenty-five; and, in the
great area east of Elpaputi Bay, it was supposed that there dwelt between
twenty-one and twenty-two thousand; making a total of eighty-nine
thousand and eighty-seven, about ninety thousand; but Dr. Bleeker, who
gives these figures, thinks there are half as many more people among the
mountains, and that the whole population of the island should be put
down at one hundred and fifty thousand. He gives the population of these
islands for 1855 in round numbers as follows:
Amboina 29,500
Haruku 7,900
Buru 9,200
Amblau 1,000
Bonoa 1,500
Nusalaut 3,500
Manipa 700
Saparua 11,600
Ceram 150,000
-------
Total 214,200
These figures may be regarded as good estimates of the population at the
present time.
[33] This name Alfura, in Dutch Alfoera, is also written Alfora, Alafora,
Arafura, and Halafora. Mr. Crawford finds that it is composed of the
Arabic articles _alor_, _el_, and the preposition _fora_, without; and
was simply a general denomination given by the Portuguese when they were
supreme in the Moluccas to all the native inhabitants who were without
the pale of their authority.
[34] This Gunong Api most not be confounded with another similar volcano
of the same name north of Wetta, and still another near the western end
of Sumbawa, at the northern entrance to the Sapi Strait.
[35] De Barros, in Crawfurd’s “Dictionary of the India Islands.”
[36] Subsequently I learned that two of them were still living when he
reached France.
[37] From Valentyn and later writers we learn that eruptions have
occurred in the following years: 1586, 1598, 1609, 1615, 1632, 1690,
1696, 1712, 1765, 1775, 1778, 1820, and 1824.
[38] Heavy earthquakes, without eruptions, have occurred in 1629, 1683,
1710, 1767, 1816, and 1852.
[39] In this case the facts that the water in the roads did not pour out
into the sea, and that the “flood” did not come until half an hour after
the shock had occurred, indicate that this wave had its origin elsewhere,
and that there is no need of supposing, as in accounting for the great
wave of 1852, that any part of the group was raised or depressed.
[40] Mr. Crawford thinks this is a corruption of _burungdewata_, which in
Malay means “birds of God.”
[41] Vide Ramusio, vol. i., p. 376, in Crawford’s “Dictionary of the
India Islands.”
[42] In the same length of time Mr. A. R. Wallace collected sixty-six
species on this island.
[43] A similar cause produces the rainless district of Peru, but there
the prevailing wind throughout the year, at least in the upper strata of
the atmosphere, is from the southeast.
[44] This date is corroborated by Pigafetta, who wrote in 1521, and
remarks in regard to this point: “Hardly fifty years have elapsed since
the Moors (Arabs) conquered (converted) Malucco (the Moluccas), and
dwelt there. Previously these islands were peopled with Gentiles (i. e.,
heathen) only.”
[45] Vide Pigafetta in Crawfurd’s “Dict. India Islands.”
[46] He has since been canonized, and is worthily considered by his
people a model of piety and devotion to the missionary cause.
[47] Mr. A. R. Wallace, who has travelled more widely than any other
naturalist over the region where these magnificent birds are found, gives
the following complete list of the species now known, and the places they
inhabit: Arru Islands, _P. apoda_ and _P. regia_; Misol, _P. regia_ and
_P. magnifica_; Wagiu, _P. rubra_; Salwatti, _P. regia_, _P. magnifica_,
_Epimachus albus_, and _Sericulus aureus_; coast regions of New Guinea
generally, _Epimachus albus_, and _Sericulus aureus_; central and
mountainous regions of the northern peninsula of New Guinea, _Lophorina
superba_, _Parotia sexsetacea_, _Astrapia nigra_, _Epimachus magnus_,
_Craspedophora magnifica_, and probably _Diphylloides Wilsonii_ and
_Paradigalla carunculata_.
[48] This number is divided according to nationalities as follows:
Europeans, 550; natives, 102,423; Chinese, 1,434; Arabs, 11.
[49] Crawfurd’s “Dictionary of the India Islands.”
[50] For an accurate representation of these rings, see the drawings of
concretionary structure in Dana’s “Manual of Geology,” p. 99, fig. 85.
[51] I had little idea, when the above was written, that this ship was no
other than the Hartford, made so famous by Admiral Farragut’s brave and
successful assault on the forts below Mobile, and that Rear-Admiral H. H.
Bell, then commanding our Asiatic squadron, was on board; and that during
that same year (1866) it would be my privilege to meet him, and receive
from him and the other officers of our United States ships so much kind
assistance in making long voyages on the coasts of China, Corea, and
Japan.
[52] Vide Max Müller’s “Lectures on the Science of Language,” First
Course, p. 224.
[53] Queen Elizabeth’s letter is as follows: “We for them” (the East
India Company) “do promise, that in no time hereafter you shall have
cause to repent thereof, but rather to rejoice much, for their dealing
shall be true and their conversation sure, and we hope that they will
give such good proof thereof that this beginning shall be a perpetual
confirmation of love betwixt our subjects in both parts, by carrying
from us such things and merchandise as you have need of there. So that
your highness shall be very well served, and better contented, than you
have heretofore been with the Portugals and Spaniards, our enemies, who
only and none else of these regions have frequented those your and the
other kingdoms of the East, not suffering that the other natives should
do it, pretending themselves to be monarchs and absolute lords of all
those kingdoms and provinces, as their own conquest and inheritance, as
appears by their lofty titles in their writings. The contrary whereof
hath very lately appeared unto us. That your highness, and your royal
family, fathers and grandfathers, have, by the grace of God, and their
valor, known, not only to defend your own kingdoms, but also to give
war unto the Portugals in the land which they possess, as namely: in
Malacca, in the year of human redemption, 1575, under the conduct of
your valliant Captain Ragamacota (_Rajah makuta_) with their great loss
and the perpetual honor of your highness’ crown and kingdom. And now, if
your highness shall be pleased to accept unto your favor and grace and
under your royal protection and defence, these our subjects, that they
may freely do their business now and continue yearly hereafter, this
bearer, who goeth chief of the fleet of four ships, hath order, with
your highness’ license, to leave certain factors with a settled house or
factory in your kingdom, until the going thither of another fleet, which
shall go thither on the return of this—which left factors shall learn
the language and customs of your subjects, whereby the better and more
lovingly to converse with them.”
[54] For a detailed list of the quantities exported each year, and the
average price, see Appendix D.
[55] Vide Marsden’s “History of Sumatra,” p. 322 _et seq._
[56] While this work is going to the press, the specimens referred to
have all arrived in perfect order, though the ship that brought them
was obliged to put in twice in distress, having one time been nearly
dismasted by a cyclone, that kept her on her beam ends for eight hours.
[57] This accords with Van Dijk’s statement, that while the purity of
English coals is represented by 81.08, that of the Orange-Nassau mines in
Borneo would be represented by 98.46, and this by 69.47.
[58] The total population of this residency is estimated at 527,050, of
which 132 are Europeans; about 522,345 natives; 2,790 Chinese; 1,716
Arabs; and 67 from other Eastern nations.
[59] The population of the island is 54,389. Of these, 110 are Europeans;
37,070 natives; 17,097 Chinese, and 56 Arabs.
[60] ‘Proceedings of the Zoological Society of London.’
INDEX.
A.
Abreu, Antonio d’, sent to search for the Spice Islands, 23;
is the first to reach the Bandas, 215;
pillars of discovery erected by, 256.
Achin, country, people, and trade, 448;
English appear at, 449.
Alfura, name whence derived and its signification, 203, and _note_;
bloody laws of, in Ceram, 205;
of Kaibobo, 207;
drunken revels of, 209, 210;
of Buru, their customs and belief, 271-273;
of the Minahassa, 365.
Amahai, bay of, described, 202;
village of, _ib._
Amboina, residence of Rumphius, 13;
island and city described, 130-132;
famous for its shells, 133;
life of foreigners at, 211;
trade of, 249.
_Amuk_, defined, 383.
_Anak gadis_, or virgin children, 497, 507.
_Anon depressicornis_, an antelope, 325.
Ants, abundance of and trouble caused by, 288, 289.
Army, headquarters of Javanese, 43;
Dutch, in Sumatra, 456.
Arrack, how made, 68.
Arriens, governor of the Moluccas, 213;
kind invitation given the author, _ib._;
visits Banda, 213 _et seq._
Aru Islands, account of, 244.
Assilulu, visit to the village of, 149-161.
Ayar Bangis, port of, 453.
B.
Baba, island of, described, 127.
Babirusa, skulls of, 150;
distribution of, _ib._;
young one seen at Kayéli, 292;
author hunts for, on Limbi, 325;
one commits suicide, 331.
Bachian, island of, described, 299;
great python killed on, 334;
fauna of, 380.
_Baju_, a, described, 34.
Bali, described, 93;
fauna of, _ib._;
separation from Java, 93, 94;
fauna of, 94;
religion of, 95, 96.
_Bali_, a town hall, 477.
Bamboo, used by the Malays, 86.
Banana, tree and fruit described, 84, 85;
native name for, 159;
different kinds, _ib._
Banca, description and geology of, 534;
income of, 535.
Banda, author arrives at, 128;
and revisits, 214;
description of the group, 214, 215;
early inhabitants of, 216;
religion of, _ib._;
natives of, exterminated by the Dutch, 217;
convicts banished to, 217, 218;
the group only walls of a crater, 224;
compared with that of the Tenger Mountains, _ib._;
nutmeg parks on, 227;
residency of, 242.
Banteng, the _Bos sondaicus_, 72.
Bantiks, a people near Menado, 343.
Barros, Jão de, history of, 97, _note_;
his description of Celebes, 97;
describes the many languages spoken in the Moluccas, 163;
his description of the Bandas, 215, 216.
Barus, a port in Sumatra, 442.
Batavia, purpose of going to, 13;
foundation of, 24;
police of, 383.
Batta, grave of a, 417;
Lands, a description of, 423;
are cannibals, 424;
referred to by Marco Polo, 425;
by Sir Stamford Raffles, _ib._;
draw the author’s carriage, 426, 427;
author visits a village of, 440;
houses of, _ib._;
eat a man, 442;
missionaries among, 443;
Madame Pfeiffer among, 444;
kill two American missionaries, 445;
origin of their cannibal customs, 446.
Barbosa, Odoardo, cited, 63;
history of, 100, _note_;
describes the natives of Celebes, 100.
Bears, of Sumatra, 510, 511.
Bencoolen, bay of, 486;
history of, 487, 489.
Benzoin, a resin, 63.
Betel-nut; tree described, 180;
mode of chewing the, 181.
Birds.—
Bird that guarded the double cocoa-nut tree, 15;
of Java, 80, 81;
trade in, on the coast of New Guinea, 242;
luris, _ib._;
crown pigeons (_Megapodiideæ_), 242;
doves (_Columba ænea_ and _Columba perspicillata_), fruit planted
by, 243;
of paradise found at Aru Islands, 244;
Pigafetta’s account of, _ib._;
kingfishers at the Bandas, 246;
_Pitta vigorsi_, a rare species, _ib._;
_Carpophaga luctuosa_, a white dove, 255, 268;
the prince parrot (_Platycercus hypophonius_), description of,
_ib._;
luris, red (_Eos rubra_), 256, 259;
kingfishers at Buru, 258;
hunting luris, 259;
parrakeets, _ib._;
_Trichoglossus cyanogrammus_, _ib._;
luris, Moore’s description of, 260;
_Tanygnathus macrorynchus_, a large, green parrot, 268;
_Carpophaga perspicillata_, a long-tailed dove, _ib._;
_Muscicapidæ_, _ib._;
_Monarcha loricata_, _ib._;
_Tropidorynchus bouruensis_, 269;
_Anas rajah_, or “prince duck,” 283;
author incurs great danger in procuring, _ib._;
_castori rajah_, 289;
_Megapodius Forsteni_, _ib._;
_M. Wallacei_, _ib._;
mode of shooting, skinning, and preserving, 288, 289;
_Corvus enka_, 335;
_Dicrurus_, _ib._
Birgos latro, the great hermit crab, 148.
Bleeker, Dr., on the geology of Laitimur, 247;
on the ichthyology of Lake Linu, 344.
Blood-suckers, author tortured by, 492, 493, 508.
Boats, with outriggers, 57;
see also _leper-leper_.
Bonang, the, described, 190.
Bonoa, situation of, 253.
Bosche, Governor Van den; entertains the author at Padang, 387.
_Bos sondaicus_; the ox of Madura, 72.
Bread-fruit, tree and fruit described, 92.
Breech-loader, Sharpe’s, 43.
Bridge, suspension, made of rattan, 428, 430;
of bamboo, 474;
of rattan, 475.
Bua, valley of, 462;
cave of, 463, 464.
Buffalo, the, described, 35;
habits of, 35, 36;
color of, 36;
fights with tigers, 36;
wild ones in Sumatra, 413.
Buru, described, 256;
history of, 270, 271;
Alfura of, and their customs and belief, 271-273;
alternation of seasons in, 298.
Buton, description and geology of, 380, 381.
C.
Camphor-trees, described, 433;
kinds of, _ib._
Cannibals; mode of eating men, 444;
see also Battas.
Cassowary, eggs of, 150;
habitat of the, _ib._
Cauto, Diogo de, history of, 98, _note_;
his description of Celebes, 98, 99.
Celebes; description and history of, 97-100;
northern peninsula of, 322;
gold-mines in, 379;
fauna of, 380.
Cemetery, Chinese, at Batavia, 35.
Ceram, described, 201, 202;
head-hunters of, 203;
Alfura, _ib._;
landing on the south coast of, 207;
alternation of seasons in, 298.
Ceram-laut, natives of, 242;
elevation of, 243.
_Cervus rufa_, 80;
_mantjac_, _ib._
Chair, to travel in, described, 141, 142.
Chilachap, port of, 57.
Christmas Island, passed, 13.
Cinnamon, kinds of, and their distribution, 425.
Cleft, of Padang Panjang, 390-392, 459, 460.
Clove, tree and fruit described, 153;
distribution of, 153, 154;
quantities obtained in previous years, 153;
mode of gathering the, 155;
names for, 156;
history of, 157;
yield of, in Saparua, Haruku, and Nusalaut, 197.
_Clypeastridæ_, abundant at Saparua, 186.
Coal, near Siboga, 436;
near Bencoolen, 492-495;
abundance of, 494;
on the Limatang, 521;
on the Inem, 524.
Cock-fighting, Malay passion for, 61.
Cocoa-nut, the double, 14;
palm, described, 81-83;
oil, mode of making, 83;
kind eaten by Malays, 82, 83;
importance of, 84;
beaches lined with trees of, 149;
a portable fountain, _ib._;
abundance of, on the upper Limatang, 523;
rafts of, _ib._
Cocoa-trees at Amboina, 138;
history of, 138, 139.
Coffee, store-houses for, at Menado, 346;
history of, 347-349;
how brought to Padang and when sold, 453;
exports to the United States, 455, and Appendix D.;
where large quantities could be profitably raised, 504, 505.
_Coir_, a rope made of gomuti fibres, 370.
Controleur, duties of, 67;
in Ceram summons the head-hunters, 203.
Cooking, Eastern mode of, 31.
Coral, _Meandrinas_, or “brain corals,” 285;
different kinds of, and appearance beneath the sea, 286-287;
_Fungidæ, Gorgonias_, raised reefs, 508.
Cotton, raised by the natives on the Limatang, 527.
Crawfurd, Mr. John, cited, 96;
in regard to Mount Tomboro, 108.
D.
Damma, described, 126;
hot springs in, 126, 127.
Deer, author hunts, on Buru, 290-292;
their venison smoked and made into _dinding_, 292;
_Axis maculata_, 387;
hunted by tigers, 413.
Dias, Bartholomew, his discovery of southern extremity of Africa, 22.
Dilli, city of, 122;
name whence derived, 124.
Diving, skilful, 103.
_Draco volans_, described, 144.
Dugong found at Aru Islands, 244.
_Duku_, the, described, 90.
Durian tree and fruit described, 91, 92.
E.
Earl, Mr., cited in regard to a plateau, 95;
people near Dilli, 116.
Earthquake, experienced by the author at Amboina, 167-169;
diseases caused by several, 169, 170.
Elephants, native mode of killing, 495;
author comes near a stray one, 513;
distribution of, _ib._
Elizabeth, Queen; her letter to the rajah of Achin, 449, _note_.
Eugene Sue, describes Rahden Saleh, 38.
Exquisite, an Eastern, described, 42.
F.
_Feest Kakian_, a revel of the head-hunters, 210.
Fever, Batavia, described, 39.
Fishes; large one caught at Limbi, 332;
_Ophiocephalus striatus_, 354;
_Anabas scandens_, _ib._;
_Anguilla Elphinstonei_, _ib._
Fishing, boats used by Malays, 52;
Malay mode of, 329.
Floris described, 111;
cannibals of, _ib._
Flying-fish, 106;
can fly during a calm, 122.
Forest, home in a tropical, 261;
nature’s highway through, 263.
Fountain, “youth’s radiant,” quoted from Moore, 297.
_Fringilla oryzivora_, the rice-bird, 80.
G.
_Gallus bankiva_, 60, 61;
other species of, 60.
Galunggong, Mount; eruption of, 75, 76;
compared with the Tenger Mountains, 77.
_Gambang_, of Java, 190.
Gambling, Malay vice of, 61.
Geology, of Timur, near Kupang, 119, 120;
of the Banda group, 241;
of Amboina, 247;
of Buru, 263, 293;
of Bachian, 299;
of the Minahassa, 376;
of Gorontalo, 379;
of Buton, 381;
of a cliff at Tapanuli Bay, 441;
of the Padang plateau, 477;
of the cliffs of Bencoolen Bay, 489, 490;
of the region near Tebing Tingi, 508;
of the region of the upper Limatang, 522;
of Banca, 534.
Gillibanta, passed, 187.
Gilolo, west coast of, 310;
Alfura of, 311;
“the bloodhounds” of, _ib._
Goitre, prevalent in the interior of Sumatra, 416;
probable cause of, _ib._
Gold-mines in Celebes, 379;
geological age of, _ib._;
mines in Sumatra, 404-406;
distribution of, 406;
ornaments of, 431, 432;
mode of obtaining, 432.
_Gomuti_ palm, fibres of, 360;
made into a rope, 370;
_tuak_ or wine of, 371.
Goram, situation of, 243.
Gorontalo, bay of, 377;
country and tribes near, 378.
Gresik, village of, 56.
Gunong Api, of Sapi Strait, 106, 107;
of Banda, 214-219;
author ascends, 228;
description of, 228-234;
account of eruptions of, 237;
the one near Wetta, 245;
of Banda compared to Ternate, 317.
H.
Haruku, one of the Uliassers, 178;
north coast of, 182;
population and description of, _ib._
Head-hunters, of Ceram, 203;
clothing, 203, 204;
dance of, _ib._;
of Sawai Bay, 205, 206.
Hinduism, history of, 62.
Hitu, a part of Amboina, 130;
remarkable appearance of hills on, 131;
excursion along the coast of, 141.
Horse, author thrown from a, 341;
of Sumatra, 409.
Hospital, at Batavia, 39.
Houtman, commander of first Dutch fleet to the East, 24;
arrives at Ternate, 307.
_Hukom_, _Biza_, _Kadua_, _Tua_, and _Kachil_, meaning of, 338.
Hunting in the tropics, 139.
I.
Ice, used in the East, 31;
whence brought, and where manufactured, 31.
Inkfish, an _Octopus_, author dines on, 172.
J.
Java, Sea, 19;
meaning of the word, 21;
described by Ludovico Barthema, 23;
compared with Cuba, 77-79;
description of, 77, 78;
population of, 78;
imports and exports, 79;
forests, _ib._;
fauna, 79-81;
flora, 81-89;
separated from Sumatra and Bali, 93, 94.
Jewels, from the heads of wild boars, 151;
Rumphius’s account of, 152.
Jukes, Mr., cited on the geology of Sandal-wood Island, 112;
Timur, 119.
Junghuhn, Dr., cited, 52, 53, 109.
K.
_Kampong_, a, described, 132.
Kayéli, bay of, 256;
village of, 257;
description of, 269;
history of, 270;
a threatening fleet arrives off, 283.
_Kayu-puti_, trees and oil described, 282, 283;
distribution of, 283.
Kema, village of, 323;
great python killed near, 334.
Ki, some account of the group, 243.
Kissa, described, 125.
Klings, whence their name, 63;
early voyages of, to the archipelago, 405.
Kloff, Captain; describes the natives of Kissa, 125.
Korinchi, reformers of, 471.
Kubus, the tribe of, described, 533.
Kupang, village of, 113;
bay of, _ib._;
population of, 114;
oranges of, _ib._
L.
_Ladangs_, native gardens, 264.
Lepers, author visits a village of, 343;
description of the, 343-346;
description of the disease, 345.
_Leper-leper_, a native boat, 165;
dangerous voyage in, 165, 166.
Letti, described, 125.
Limatang, river of, 518, 520, 521;
author descends, 521-533.
Limbi, an island near Kema, 324;
author visits for Babirusa, 324-332.
Living, Eastern mode of, 32.
_Lombok_, the, described, 264.
Lombok, island of, separated from Bali, 93;
fauna of, 94;
flora, _ib._
Lontar, one of the Banda Islands, 214;
shores of, 219;
author visits it, 223-227;
beautiful nutmeg-groves of, 225.
Lotus, fragrant, 358;
land of, by Tennyson, 366.
Lubus, tribe of, 411;
habits, 419.
M.
Macassar, harbor of, 100;
praus of, 100, 101;
city of, 103-105;
tombs of princes near, 105.
Madura, a low island, 55;
Strait of, 56;
cattle of, 60;
south coast of, 71;
whence its name, _ib._;
coffee-trees on, 72;
manufacture of salt on, 72.
Magellan, Ferdinand, his discovery of the Spice Islands, 305-307.
Maize, history of, 265-267.
Makian, island of, described, 299;
eruptions of, 299, 300.
_Malabrathrum_, a gum, 62.
Malay, first sight of, 18;
language of, 20;
physical characteristics of, 33, 34;
passion for gambling, _ib._;
are mostly Mohammedans, _ib._;
language affected by the Portuguese, 122;
speak many dialects, 162, 163;
migrations of, from Gilolo, 313.
Mango, tree and fruit described, 89, 90, 148.
Mangostin, described, 88, 89.
Manindyu, lake of, 397;
crater of, 399, 401;
village of, _ib._
Marco Polo, his account of Java, 21.
Marriage, feast at Kayéli, 274;
Mohammedan laws in regard to, 275;
at Amboina, 275-278;
Malay ideas of, 279.
Matabella, situation of group, 243;
Wallace’s description of, _ib._
Menado, village of, 342;
bay of, 346, 351;
Tua, an island, 346.
Menangkabau, kingdom of, 394;
former capitals of, 468;
history of, 469-474;
arts in, 472, 473.
Minahassa; the most beautiful spot on the globe, 316;
mode of travelling in, 335;
population of, and area, 339;
cataract in, 356;
mud-wells and hot springs in, 358-364;
Alfura of, 365;
most charming view in, 369;
products of, 370, 375;
graves of the aborigines of, 373;
Christianity and education in, 375;
geology of, 376.
Mitarra; small island near Ternate, 317.
Mohammedan religion, first converts to, 51;
at Gresik, 56;
jealousy, 159;
requires the shaving of the head, 273;
filing the teeth, 274.
Moluccas, history of the, 146;
population and how divided, 195;
Catholicism in, 307, 308;
Christianity introduced, 308;
of what islands composed, 309.
Monkeys, of Sumatra and Java, 408, 409;
large troops of, 410;
sagacity of, 478;
a flock of, 509.
Monsoons, calms during the changing of, 16;
name whence derived, 44;
east and west, _ib._;
rainy, 45;
sky thick in the eastern, 120;
eastern at Amboina, Ceram, Buru, and New Guinea, 128, 129;
western boundary of, 486.
Mosque, Mohammedan, in Samarang, 50.
Mount, Ungarung, 45;
Slamat, _ib._;
Sumbing, 46;
Prau, residence of the gods, 46-48;
Japura, 48;
Tenger, 73;
Bromo, 74;
Tomboro, eruption of, 108-110;
Tompasso, 357;
Singalang, 393;
Mérapi, _ib._;
Ophir, 404;
Seret Mérapi, 420, 422;
Lubu Rajah, 423;
Sago, 461-468;
Talang, 480;
Ulu Musi, 499;
Dempo, 516.
Mud-wells, in the Minahassa, 359-364.
Müller, Dr. S., ascended Gunong Api of Banda in 1828, 236.
_Musa paradisiaca_, the banana-tree, 85;
_textilis_, 340.
N.
Natal, port of, 453.
Nautilus, shells of, purchased at Kupang, 119;
said to be common on Rotti, _ib._;
those secured at Amboina, 134, 135.
Navigating mud-flats, 57.
Nusalaut, name whence derived, 178;
author visits, 187;
surrounded by a platform of coral, 187;
natives of, in ancient costume, _ib._;
description and population of, 188.
Nutmeg-tree, when found, 215;
gathered by the natives, 216;
description of tree and fruit, 222;
mode of curing the fruit, 222, 223.
O.
_Orangbai_, an, described, 136.
Orang-utan, habits of, 408, 409.
Ophir, whence the gold of, 405.
Opium, mode of selling and smoking, 279-282;
history of, 280.
P.
Padang, city of, 385;
Panjang, 392;
Sidempuan, 423.
Padangsche Bovenlanden, or Padang plateau, 390;
native houses in, 393;
dress of the natives of, 394;
author travels in, Chap. XV.;
geology of, 477.
_Paddy_, described, 66.
Pagi Islands; natives of, and their habits, 482, 483.
Palembang, author arrives at, 529;
description and history of, 530, 531;
mosque of, 531;
Lama, 532.
_Pandanus_, a screw-pine, 84.
Papandayang, Mount, eruption of, 74, 75.
Papaw, tree and fruit described, 85.
Papua, natives of, 311, 312;
taxes levied on, 314;
author thinks of going to, 315.
Pasuma, plateau and people of, 516-519.
_Pedatis_, described, 68.
Pepper, an article of trade, 446-448;
distribution of and native names for, 447, 448.
Periplus of the Erythræan Sea, 62.
Pigafetta, his account of birds of paradise, 244;
account of the Philippines, 308.
Pinã-cloth, how made, 143.
Pine-apples, introduction and history of, 142.
_Piper betel_, leaves of, chewed by the Malays, 181.
Pirates, in the Moluccas, 318;
from China, _ib._;
from Mindanao, 319;
Malays escape from, 320;
a surprise of, _ib._;
praus of, 321;
a challenge from, _ib._;
Dutch cruise for, 322.
Plough, kind used by Malays, 36;
mode of using, 36, 37.
Pompelmus, a gigantic orange, 19.
Ponies, Javanese, 65.
Post-coaches of Java, 64.
Pumice-stone, great quantities of, 110.
Python, one seen near Kema, 333;
stories concerning, 333-336;
author presented with one, 537;
it escapes, 539;
author has a deadly struggle with, 541.
R.
Raffles, Sir Stamford, history of, 488.
Railroads in Java, 49.
_Rambutan_, described, 89.
_Ranjaus_, 86.
Rattan, kinds of, 511;
how gathered, 511, 512.
Reef, first coral, visited, 123;
author’s boat strikes on one, 183;
waves breaking on a, 199.
Reinwardt, Professor, cited, 53;
ascended Gunong Api of Banda, in 1821, 236;
predicts an eruption, 312.
Rejangs, customs and laws, 496-498.
Reynst, Gerard, arrival at Banda, 236.
Rhinoceros, native pits for, 495;
distribution of, 509.
Rice, manner of gathering in Java, 66.
Rivers; Musi and its valley, 499;
Inem, 521, 522.
Roads, post, in Java, 64.
Roma, described, 126.
Roses, abundance of, in the Minahassa, 352, 366.
Rotti, island of, 116;
people of, _ib._
_Ruma négri_, a public house, 355;
beautiful one, 366.
_Ruma, Satan_, or Devil’s Dwelling, author visits, 437-442.
Rumphius; his “Rariteit Kamer” referred to by Linnæus, 13;
grave of, 260;
sketch of life of, 251.
S.
_Saccharum, sinensis_, 69;
_officinarum_, _ib._;
_violaceum_, _ib._
Sacrifice, human, 117.
Saleh, Rahden, palace of, 37, 38;
manners and acquirements of, 38;
described by Eugene Sue, _ib._
Salt, manufacture in Madura, 72;
Java, 72, 73;
Borneo and Philippines, 73;
quantity of, _ib._;
prices of, 73, _note_.
Samarang, arrive at, 45;
described, 48.
_Sambal_, described, 32.
Sandal-wood Island, description of, 113;
horses of, _ib._
Sandy Sea, the, 74.
Saparua, name whence derived, 178;
island described, 184;
history, _ib._;
town of, 184, 185;
bay of, 186.
_Sapi_, described, 60.
Sarong, description of the, 18, 34.
Sawai bay, people of, 205.
_Sawas_, described, 66;
fertility of, 67.
Schneider, Dr., cited, 120, 247.
Schools, in the Spice Islands, 193;
how supported, _ib._;
welcome to the Resident, 194;
classes of, 195.
Sclater, Mr., cited, 94.
Semao, island of, 113.
Sequiera, first brings Portuguese into Eastern Archipelago, 23.
Shells, collecting, at Kupang, 117-119;
_Trochus marmoratus_, 175;
_Strombus latissimus_, 176;
_Scalaria preciosa_, 185;
_Cypræa moneta_, 186;
best place in the Spice Islands to gather, 198;
harp, _ib._;
_Mitra episcopalis_ and _papalis_, 199;
_Tridacna gigas_, found on hills, 248;
_Auricula_ in Ceram, 255;
_Rostellaria rectirostris_, _ib._
Siboga, author comes to the village of, 434;
country about, 435 _et seq._;
coal near, 436.
Singapore, history and description of, 536.
Sinkara, lake of, 476;
kampong, _ib._
Siri, Malay name for the _Piper betel_, 181.
Snakes, swimming, 14.
Springs, Damma, 126;
in Java, 127;
hot, in the Minahassa, 360-364.
Strait, Sunda, 13-19;
Sapi, passed through, 106-108.
_Styrax benzoin_, described, 63.
Sugar-cane, kinds of, 69;
history of, 69, 70.
Sugar-Loaf Island, passed, 121.
Sulphur, from volcanoes, 53.
Sumatra, grand mountains of, 43;
author travels in, 384-532;
Dutch army in, 456;
Hinduism in, 471;
Mohammedanism in, 471;
unimproved areas in, 502;
true source of the wealth of, 505.
Sumbawa, seen, 107;
Mount Tomboro in, 108.
Sundanese, a language of Java, 25.
Surabaya; business of, 56;
shipping at, _ib._;
harbor of, 57;
situation of, _ib._;
population of, _ib._;
dock-yard, 58;
machine-shops, _ib._;
artillery works, 59;
streets of, 60.
Surakarta, residence of Javanese princes, 26.
Surf, on south coast of Ceram, 208;
revolt in, 257.
T.
_Tandu_, a, described, 49.
Tanjong O, feared by the natives, 200;
Flasco, beautiful sunset seen at, 377.
Tapanuli, bay of, 434, 436;
geology of a cliff near, 441;
natives that come to the bay of, 448.
Teak, durability of, and different purposes used for, 59;
abundant in Java, 79;
distribution of, 267.
Telegraph-lines in Java and Sumatra, 65.
Tenger Mountains, seen, 73;
Sandy Sea in, 74;
Bromo in, _ib._;
compared with the Bandas, 241.
Ternate, island and village of, described, 300, 303, 304;
history and account of the eruptions of, 300-309;
the prince of, and his territory, 309, 310;
trade of, 315;
author experiences four earthquakes at, in four days, 316;
houses of foreigners at, 317.
Tidore, peak and village of, 312, 313;
prince of, 313.
_Tifa_; a kind of drum, 137;
discordant sounds of, 179;
mode of beating, 180.
Tigers, ravages of, 413;
native traps for, 491;
natives destroyed, 503, 504;
fight with a bear, 510;
abundance of, 513-517.
Timur, different races on, 115;
southeast monsoon in, _ib._;
northwestern coast of, 121.
Timur-laut, described, 127;
natives of, at Banda, 218.
Tin, distribution of, 535.
Tobacco, history of, 265, 266.
Tondano, lake of, 367, 368;
village of, 368;
Klabat, mantled with clouds, 369;
tragedy occurred near, 372.
Trees.—
Upas, 54;
_Antiaris toxicaria_, 54, 55;
anchar, 55;
_Artocarpus incisa_, and _integrifolia_, 92, 93;
_Carophyllus aromaticus_, the clove, 153;
Palmyra palm, 222;
_Borassus flabelliformis_, _ib._;
_Myristica moschata_, the nutmeg, _ib._;
_Tectona grandis_, the teak, 267.
_Tripang_, described, 101-103.
U.
Uliassers described, 178.
V.
Valentyn, his description of an earthquake wave, 240;
history of Buru, 270;
history of Ternate, 304;
describes the eruption of Mount Kemaas, 336, 337.
Valley of Poison, 53.
Van Dijk, cited, 476, 492, 494.
Vidua, Carlo de, sinks in a solfatara, 354.
_Viverra musanga_, 79, 80.
W.
Wakasihu, visit to the village of, 161-164;
rajah of, 161;
shells gathered at, 162.
Wallace, A. R., cited, 94, 95;
list of the birds of paradise, 314, _note_.
Wetta, described, 124.
Wilkinson, Sir Gardner, cited, 62.
X.
Xavier, St. Francis, visits the Moluccas, 307.
Z.
Zoological gardens, at Batavia, 38;
at Samarang, 60.
THE END.
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