Perjalanan di Kepulauan Hindia Timur/Bab 6

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[178] 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[180] 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.

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[181] 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[182] 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[183] 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.

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[184] 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,[185] 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[186] 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[188] 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[189] 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[190] 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.

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[192] 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[193] 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[194] 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[195] 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 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[197] 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[198] 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;[199] 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.

[200]

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[201] 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[202] 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[203] 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[204] 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[205] 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[206] 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.

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[208] 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[209] 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.

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[210] 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[211] 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.