Perjalanan di Kepulauan Hindia Timur/Bab 13

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[408] 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[409] 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[410] 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[411] 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[412] 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[413] 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,[415] 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[416] 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[417] 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[418] 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[419] 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.

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[420] 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[421] 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[422] 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[423] 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[424] 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[425] 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[426] 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[427] 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.

[428]

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[429] 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.

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[430] 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[431] 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[432] 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[433] 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,[434] 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.