Perjalanan di Kepulauan Hindia Timur/Bab 7

CHAPTER VII.

BANDA.

Two months had now passed since I arrived at Amboina, and I had not only collected all the shells figured in Rumphius’s “Rariteit Kamer,” which I had come to seek, but more than twice as many species besides. I was therefore ready to visit some other locality, and turn my attention to a different branch of natural history. During all the time I had been gathering and arranging my collection, Governor Arriens had frequently honored me with a visit, and, as I was finishing my work, he called again, this time to give me a pleasant surprise. He had a fine steam-yacht, of three or four hundred tons. It was necessary that he should go to Banda, and he took it for granted that I would accompany him. If I had planned for myself, what could I have desired more; but he added that, when his yacht, the Telegraph, returned, there would be an item of business for her to do on the north coast of Ceram, which I should also visit, though alone, and that, when she returned to Amboina a second time, we would go together to Ternate, and, taking the Resident stationed there, proceed to the north coast of Papua—a royal programme.

Sept. 7th.—At 5 P. M. steamed down the beautiful bay of Amboina for Banda. Our company is composed of the governor, who is going on a tour of inspection, our captain, myself, an “officer of justice,” and a lieutenant with a detachment of soldiers in charge of a native of Java, who is sentenced to be hanged as soon as we reach our port. The worst of the rainy season is now over, and this evening is cool, clear, and delightful.

Early the next morning Banda appeared on the horizon, or more correctly the Bandas—for they are ten in number. The largest, Lontar, or Great Banda, is a crescent-shaped island, about six miles long and a mile and a half wide in the broadest parts. The eastern horn of its crescent turns toward the north and the other points toward the west. In a prolongation of the former lie Pulo Pisang, “Banana Island,” and Pulo Kapal, “Ship Island.” The first is about two-thirds of a mile long, and half as wide; the last is merely a rock about three hundred feet high, and somewhat resembling the poop of a ship, hence its name. Within the circle of which these islands form an arc, lie three other islands. The highest and most remarkable is the Gunong Api,[34] or “Burning Mountain,” a conical, active volcano, about two thousand three hundred feet high. Between Gunong Api and the northern end of Lontar lies Banda Neira, about two miles long and less than a mile[215] broad. Northeast of the latter is a small rock called Pulo Krakka, or “Women’s Island.”

The centre of the circle of which Lontar is an arc falls in a narrow passage called Sun Strait, which separates Gunong Api from Banda Neira. The diameter of this circle is about six miles. Without it, another concentric circle may be drawn, which will pass through Pulo Ai, “Water Island,” on the west, and Rosengain in the southwest; and outside of this a third concentric circle, which will pass through Swangi, “Sorcery or Spirit Island,” on the northwest, Pulo Run (Rung), “Chamber Island,” on the west, and the reef of Rosengain on the southwest. The total area of the whole group is seventeen and six-tenths geographical square miles.

The first European who reached these beautiful and long-sought islands was D’Abreu, a Portuguese, but he cannot correctly be styled their discoverer, for the Arabs and Chinese, and probably the Hindus, had been trading here for years before his arrival, as De Barros informs us D’Abreu, while on his way, touched at Gresik, in Java, to procure “Javanese and Malay pilots who had made this voyage,” and he farther adds: “Every year there repair to Lutatam” (Lontar) “Javanese and Malays to load cloves, nutmegs, and mace; for this place is in the latitudes most easily navigated, and where ships are most safe, and as the cloves of the Moluccas are brought to it by vessels of the country, it is not necessary to go to the latter in search of them. In the five islands now named” (Lontar, Rosengain, Ai, Run, and Neira), “grow all the nutmegs consumed in every part of the[216] world.” A proof of the correctness of a part of De Barros’s statements is seen in the names of the different islands, which are all of Malay or Javanese origin. The population at that time was given at fifteen thousand, which, if correct, would have made this group far more densely peopled than any island or number of islands in the whole archipelago is at the present day. Their personal appearance and form of government are thus minutely described by De Barros: “The people of these islands are robust, with a tawny complexion and lank hair, and are of the worst repute in these parts. They follow the sect of Mohammed, and are much addicted to trade, their women performing the labors of the field. They have neither king nor lord, and all their government depends on the advice of their elders; and as these are often at variance, they quarrel among themselves. The land has no other export than the nutmeg. This tree is in such abundance that the land is full of it, without its being planted by any one, for the earth yields without culture. The forests which produce it belong to no one by inheritance, but to the people in common. When June and September come, which are the months for gathering the crop, the nutmegs are allotted, and he who gathers most has most profit.”[35] The fact that the natives were Mohammedans may be regarded as a proof that they were in advance of the other nations, who continued in heathenism, and their daring and determination are well shown in their long contest with the Dutch.

For nearly a hundred years the Portuguese monopolized[217] the trade of these islands, and appear to have generally kept on good terms with the natives, but in 1609 the Dutch appeared with seven hundred troops, as large a force—Mr. Crawfurd pointedly remarks—as Cortez had with which to subjugate all Mexico. The admiral commanding this expedition, and forty-five of his companions, were taken by an ambuscade, and all slain. The Dutch then began a war of extermination, which lasted eighteen years, and was only brought to an end by a large expedition from Java, conducted by the governor-general in person. During this long contest the natives are said to have lost three thousand killed and a thousand prisoners, or more than a fourth part of what has been stated as their whole number when the Dutch arrived. All who were left alive fled to the neighboring islands, and not a vestige of their language or peculiar customs is known to exist at the present time.

The Dutch were thus left sole possessors of the coveted prize, but there were no natives to cultivate the nutmeg-trees, and they were therefore obliged to import slaves to do their labor. When slavery was abolished in the Dutch possessions, convicts were sent from Java to make up the deficiency, and at this time there are about three thousand of them in all these islands. Most of them are in Lontar and Neira. They are a most villanous-looking set, and have nearly all been guilty of the bloodiest crimes. They are obliged to wear around the neck a large iron ring, weighing a pound or a pound and a half. It is bent round, and then welded, so that it can only be taken off by means of a file. It is not so heavy that it is difficult for them to carry, but is designed, like the State-prison dress in our country, to show that they are common felons. The one on board our ship, who will be executed on our arrival, killed a secretary of the government—a European—in cold blood, at Banda, where he had already been banished for murder, like most of his fellows. The secretary, having occasion to arrange some papers in a box at the farther end of his room, noticed this common coolie disturbing some letters on his desk, and naturally ordered him to let them alone, and then leaned forward to continue his work. Instantly the Javanese, without further provocation, sprang forward, and, striking him on the back of the head with a heavy cleaver, killed him on the spot. Afterward, when this villain was seized and tried, he could assign no other reason for his committing the murder than the order from his superior to attend to his own business. When he heard that he was sentenced to death, he coolly remarked that he cared very little, as they would hang him, and not take off his head, so that what he had done would in no way affect his entering Paradise!

In 1852 some natives came from Timur, Timur-laut, and the neighboring islands, to work on the nutmeg-plantations, or, as the Dutch prefer to call them, “parks.” In two years these people numbered two hundred and thirteen, but they have not increased since to such a degree as to form a large fraction of the whole population.

But while we have been glancing back over the eventful history of the Bandas, our fast yacht has[219] rapidly brought us nearer to them over the quiet, glassy sea. This is Pulo Ai on our right. It is only from three hundred to five hundred feet high, and, as we see from the low cliffs on its shores, is mostly composed of coral rock. This is also said to be the case with the other islands outside of the first circle we have already described, and we notice that, like it, they are all comparatively low. Now changing our course to the east, we steam up under the high, steep Gunong Api. On its north-northwest side, about one-fourth of the distance from its summit down to the sea, is a deep, wide gulf, out of which rise thick, opaque clouds of white gas, that now, in the still, clear air, are seen rolling grandly upward in one gigantic, expanding column to the sky. On its top also thin, veil-like clouds occasionally gather, and then slowly float away like cumuli dissolving in the pure ether. These cloud-masses are chiefly composed of steam and sulphurous acid gas, and, as they pour out, indicate what an active laboratory Nature has established deep within the bowels of this old volcano.

The western horn of crescent-shaped Lontar is before us. Its shore is composed of a series of nearly perpendicular crags from two to three hundred feet high, but particularly on the northern or inner side the luxuriant vegetation of these tropical islands does not allow the rocks to remain naked, and from their crevices and upper edges hang down broad sheets of a bright-green, unfading verdure. The western entrance to the road, the one through which we are now passing, is between the abrupt,[220] magnificent coast of Lontar on the right, and the high, overhanging peak of Gunong Api on the left; and, as we advance, they separate, and disclose to our view the steep and lofty wall that forms Lontar’s northern shore. This is covered with a dense, matted mass of vegetation, out of which rise the erect, columnar trunks of palms, from the crests of which, as from sheaves, long, feathery leaves hang over, slowly and gracefully oscillating in the light air, which we can just perceive fanning our faces. Now Banda Neira is in full view. It is composed of hills which gradually descend to the shore of this little bay. On the top of one near us is Fort Belgica, in form a regular pentagon. At the corners are bastions surmounted by small circular towers, so that the whole exactly resembles an old feudal castle. Its walls are white, and almost dazzling in the bright sunlight; and beneath is a broad, neatly-clipped glacis, forming a beautiful, green, descending lawn. Below this defence is Fort Nassau, which was built by the Dutch when they first arrived in 1609, only two years before the foundations of Belgica were laid, and both fortifications have existed nearly as they are now for more than two and a half centuries. On either hand along the shore extends the chief village, Neira, with rows of pretty shade-trees on the bund, or front street, bordering the bay. Its population is about two thousand. In the road are a number of praus from Ceram, strange-looking vessels, high at stern, and low at the bow, and having, instead of a single mast, a tall tripod, which can be raised and lowered at pleasure. They are all poorly built, and[221] it seems a wonder that such awkward boats can live any time in a rough sea. A number of Bugis traders are also at anchor near by. They are mostly hermaphrodite schooners, carrying a square-sail or foresail, a fore-topsail, and fore-royal, and evidently designed, like the praus, to sail only before the wind. They visit the eastern end of Ceram, the southwestern and western parts of Papua or New Guinea, the Arus, and most of the thousand islands between Banda, Timur, and Australia. When the mail-steamer that took me to Amboina touched here, a merchant of this place, who joined us, brought on board four large living specimens of the Paradisea apoda or “Great Bird of Paradise,” which he had purchased a short time before from one of these traders, and was taking with him to Europe. They were all sprightly, and their colors had a bright, lively hue, incomparably richer than the most magnificent specimens I have ever seen in any museum.

At our main truck a small flag slowly unfolds and displays a red ball. This indicates that the governor is on board, and immediately a boat comes to take us to the village; but as business is not pressing—as is usually the case in the East—we prefer to conform to the established custom in these hot lands, and enjoy a siesta, instead of obliging our good friends on shore to come out in full dress and parade in the scorching sunshine.

At 5 P. M. we landed, and the Resident politely conducted us to his residence. Our first excursion was to the western end of the opposite island, Lontar, the Malay name of the Palmyra palm, Borassus flabelliformis. Its leaves were used as parchment over all the archipelago before the introduction of paper by the Arabs or Chinese, and in some places even at the present time. Lontar, as already noticed, has the form of a crescent. Its inner side is a steep wall, bordered at the base with a narrow band of low land. On the outer side from the crest of the wall many radiating ridges descend to the sea, so that its southwestern shore is a continued series of little points separated by small bays. The whole island is covered with one continuous forest of nutmeg and canari trees. The nutmeg-tree, Myristica moschata, belongs to the order Myristicaceæ. A foot above the ground the trunk is from six to ten inches in diameter. It branches like the laurel, and its loftiest sprays are frequently fifty feet high. It is diœcious, that is, the pistils and the stamens are borne on different trees, and of course some of them are unproductive. The fruit, before it is folly ripe, closely resembles a peach that has not yet been tinged with red; but this is only a fleshy outer rind, epicarp, which soon opens into two equal parts, and within is seen a spherical, black, polished nut, surrounded by a fine branching aril—the “mace”—of a bright vermilion. In this condition it is probably by far the most beautiful fruit in the whole vegetable kingdom. It is now picked by means of a small basket fastened to the end of a long bamboo. The outer part being removed, the mace is carefully taken off and dried on large, shallow bamboo baskets in the[223] sun. During this process its bright color changes to a dull yellow. It is now ready to be packed in nice casks and shipped to market. The black, shining part, seen between the ramifications of the vermilion mace, is really a shell, and the nutmeg is within. As soon as the mace is removed, the nuts are taken to a room and spread on shallow trays of open basket-work. A slow fire is then made beneath, and here they remain for three months. By the end of that time the nutmeg has shrunk so much that it rattles in its black shell. The shell is then broken, and the nutmegs are sorted and packed in large casks of teak-wood, and a brand is placed on the head of the cask, giving the year the fruit was gathered and the name of the plantation or “park” where it grew.

From Neira a large cutter took us swiftly over the bay to Selam, a small village containing the ruins of the old capital of the Portuguese during the sixteenth and early part of the seventeenth centuries, while their rights remained undisputed by the Dutch. This western end of Lontar is about four hundred feet high, and is composed of coral rock of a very recent date. Walking eastward, we next came to a conglomerate containing angular fragments of lava. This rock was succeeded on the shore of the bay by a fine-grained, compact lava, somewhat stratified, and this again by trachytic and basaltic lavas. Indeed, the whole island, except the parts described above, consists of these eruptive rocks, and Lontar may be regarded as merely a part of the walls of an immense crater about six miles in diameter, if it were circular, though its form may have been more nearly[224] elliptical. Pulo Pisang and Pulo Kapal, already noticed as falling in the first circle, are two other fragments of the old crater wall. All the remaining parts have disappeared beneath the sea. Here, then, is another immense crater, greater even than the famous one in the Tenger Mountains in the eastern part of Java, the bottom of which is covered with shifting, naked sand, and has been appropriately named by the Malays the Laut Pasar or “Sandy Sea.” That crater is elliptical in outline, its major axis measuring four and a half miles, and its minor axis three and a half miles, and, though of such dimensions, its bottom is nearly a level floor of sand. Out of this rise four truncated cones, each containing a small crater. One of these, the “Bromo” (so named from Brama, the Hindu god, whose emblem is fire), is still active. In this old crater the island Banda Neira represents the extinct cones rising in the “Sandy Sea,” and Gunong Api has a perfect analogue in the active Bromo. The enclosed bay or road, where vessels now anchor in eight or nine fathoms, is the bottom of this old crater, and, like that in the Tenger Mountains, is composed of volcanic sand. The radiating ridges on the outer side of Lontar represent the similar ridges on the sides of every volcano that is not building up its cone by frequent eruptions at its summit. Again, the islands crossed by the second and third circles are only so many cones on the flanks of this great volcano. True, those parts of them now above the sea are largely composed of coral rock like the west end of Lontar, but undoubtedly the polyps began to build their high walls on[225] the stores of islands of lava. They are doing this at the present moment. Every island in the group is now belted with a fringing reef, except at a few places where the shore is a perpendicular precipice and the water of great depth. The western entrance, through which we came to the road, is already quite closed up by a broad reef of living coral.

A stroll through these beautiful groves would be one of the richest treats a traveller could enjoy, even if he took no interest in the rocks beneath his feet. All the nutmeg-trees were loaded down with fruit, which is chiefly gathered during this month (September), and again in June, though some is obtained from time to time throughout the year. It seemed surprising that the trees could bear so abundantly season after season, but the official reports show that there has been little variation in the annual yield for the last thirty years. An average crop for the last twenty years has been about 580,000 Amsterdam pounds of nuts and 137,000 pounds of mace. The trees may be estimated, in round numbers, at 450,000, of which only two-thirds bear. As the governor remarked to me, while I was expressing my wonder at the abundance of fruit on every side, it is, indeed, strange that the income of the government does not equal its expense. For this cause it now, for the first time, proposes to give up its long-continued monopoly. Beneath the trees is spread a carpet of green grass, while high above them the gigantic canari trees stretch out their gnarled arms and shield the valuable trees intrusted to their care from the strong winds which strive in vain to make[226] them cast off their fruit before it is ripe. Such good service do the tall canaris render in this way, that they are planted everywhere, and when the island is seen from a distance, their tops quite hide the nutmeg-trees from view. The roots of this canari are most remarkable. They spring off from the trunk above the ground in great vertical sheets, which are frequently four feet broad where they leave the tree, and wind back and forth for some distance before they disappear beneath the soil, so that the lower part of one of these old trees might well be fancied to be a huge bundle of enormous snakes struggling to free themselves from a Titanic hand that held them firmly forever.

As we leisurely strolled along the crest of Lontar, with a thick foliage over our heads that effectually shut out the direct rays of the sun, we occasionally caught distant views under the trees of the blue sea breaking into white, sparkling surf on the black rocks far, far beneath us.

Soon we came to the “Lookout,” known here, however, by the Malay name Orang Datang, “The people come,” for it is a peculiarity of that language, instead of naming a place like this subjectively, as we do, that is from one’s own action, to name it objectively, that is, from the result of that action. The lookout is placed on the edge of the interior wall, and is about six hundred feet above the sea. From this point most of the Bandas are distinctly seen in a single glance, and the view is undoubtedly one of the most charming to be enjoyed among all the isles of the sea. Before us was Banda Neira, with Neira[227] its pretty village, and to the left of this the dark, smoking volcano; and beyond both, on the right, Banana Island, where the lepers live in solitary banishment; and still farther seaward, Ship Rock, with the swell chafing its abrupt sides, while, on our left, in the distance, were Pulo Ai and Pulo Run, all rising out of the blue sea, which was only ruffled here and there by light breezes or flecked by shadows of the fleecy clouds that slowly crossed the sky.

The next day we again went over to Lontar, and followed along the narrow band of low land between the base of the old crater-wall and the bay, visiting a number of the residences of the “Perkenniers,” as the proprietors of the parks are styled. Each of these consisted of a rectangular area of a eighth or a quarter of an acre, enclosed by a high wall. The side next the sea is formed by the park-keeper’s house, and on the other three sides of the great open yard are rows of store-houses, and the houses of the natives who work on that plantation. Near the place where we landed was a small area where all the mace is white when the fruit is ripe and not red. From the west end of the island we followed most of the distance round its outer shore, and then crossed to our landing. In the early morning, while we were leaving on our excursion, preparations were made in Fort Nassau for the execution of the Javanese we had brought the day before from Amboina, whither he had been taken to be tried for his capital crime. Long lines of natives, most of them women, were seen hurrying along to witness the shocking sight, apparently with exactly the same feelings they would[228] have if they were on their way to some theatrical show.

As the governor had now finished his duties as inspector, he proposed that we try to reach the top of the volcano! As we looked up toward its high, dark summit, then but partially lighted by the fading sunset, the thought of such a dangerous undertaking was enough to make one shudder, and, indeed, even while we were sitting on the broad veranda, and discussing the dangers we must incur on the morrow, there was a sudden jar—everybody darted instantly down the steps—it was an earthquake, and no one knew that a shock might not come the next instant so severe as to lay the whole house in ruins. These frightful phenomena occur here, on an average, once a month, but, of course, no one can tell what moment they may occur or what destruction they may cause. Such is the unceasing solicitude that all the inhabitants of these beautiful islands have to suffer. The governor had ascended fifteen volcanoes on Java, some of them with the famous Dr. Junghuhn, and such a slight earthquake could not shake his decision. But our party had to be made up anew. I promised the governor he should not go alone, though I could not anticipate the ascent without some solicitude. The captain of our yacht then volunteered, also a lieutenant, and finally, as no other shock disturbed us, the excursion became as popular as before, and a number asked permission “to go with His Excellency,” a favor the governor was quite ready to grant, though I noticed a good-natured smile on his countenance to see such devotion and such bravery.

There was only one man, a native, who had ever been to the top and “knew the way,” though from a distance one part of the mountain seemed as dangerous as another. That man was engaged as our “guide,” and also some ten others whose duty it was to carry a good supply of water in long bamboos. Early next morning the coolies were ready, but only the four of us before mentioned appeared at the appointed hour; the daring of the others had evidently been dispelled by portentous dreams. From the western end of the village we crossed “the Strait of the Sun” to the foot of the mountain. Some coolies had preceded us, and cleared away a path up the steep acclivity; but soon our only road was the narrow bands where large masses of rocks and sand, which had been loosened from some place high up the mountain, and shot down in a series of small land-slides, ploughing up the low shrubbery in their thundering descent. As long as we climbed up among the small trees, although it was difficult and tiring, it was not particularly dangerous until we came out on the naked sides of the mountain, for this great elevation is not covered with vegetation more than two-thirds of the distance from its base to its summit. This lack of vegetation is caused by the frequent and wide land-slides and by the great quantity of sulphur brought up to its top by sublimation and washed down its sides by the heavy rains. Here we were obliged to crawl up on all fours among small, rough blocks of porous lava, and all spread out until our party formed a horizontal line on the mountain-side, so that when one loosened several rocks, as constantly happened,[230] they might not come down upon some one beneath him. Our ascent now was extremely slow and difficult, but we kept on, though sometimes the top of the mountain seemed as far off as the stars, until we were within about five hundred feet of the summit, when we came to a horizontal band of loose, angular fragments of lava from two to six inches in diameter. The mountain-side in that place rose at least at an angle of thirty-five degrees, but to us, in either looking up or down, it seemed almost perpendicular. The band of stones was about two hundred feet wide, and so loose that, when one was touched, frequently half a dozen would go rattling down the mountain. I had got about half-way across this dangerous place, when the stones on which my feet were placed gave way. This, of course, threw my whole weight on my hands, and at once the rocks, which I was holding with the clinched grasp of death, also gave way, and I began to slide downward. The natives on either side of me cried out, but no one dared to catch me for fear that I should carry him down also. Among the loose rocks, a few ferns grew up and spread out their leaves to the sunlight. As I felt myself going down, I chanced to roll to my right side and notice one of them, and, quick as a flash of light, the thought crossed my mind that my only hope was to seize that fern. This I did with my right hand, burying my elbow among the loose stones with the same motion, and that, thanks to a kind Providence, was sufficient to stop me; if it had broken, in less than a minute—probably in thirty or forty seconds—I should have been dashed to pieces on the rough rocks beneath.[231] The whole certainly occurred in a less space of time than it takes to read two lines on this page. I found myself safe—drew a long breath of relief—thanked God it was well with me—and, kicking away the loose stones with my heels, turned round and kept on climbing. Above this band of loose stones the surface of the mountain was covered with a crust formed chiefly of the sulphur washed down by the rains, which have also formed many small grooves. Here we made better progress, though it seemed the next thing to climbing the side of a brick house; and I thought I should certainly be eligible to the “Alpine Club”—if I ever got down alive. At this moment the natives above us gave a loud shout, and I supposed of course that some one had lost his footing and was going down to certain death. “Look out! Look out!—Great rocks are coming!” was the order they gave us; and the next instant several small blocks, and one great flake of lava two feet in diameter, bounded by us with the speed of lightning. “Here is another!” It is coming straight for us, and it will take out one of our number to a certainty, I thought. I had stood up in the front of battle when shot and shell were flying, and men were falling; but now to see the danger coming, and to feel that I was perfectly helpless, I must confess, made me shudder, and I crouched down in the groove where I was, hoping it might bound over me: and at that instant, a fragment of lava, a foot square, leaped up from the mountain and passed directly over the head of a coolie a few feet to my right, clearing him by not more than[232] five or six inches. I took it for granted that the mountain was undergoing another eruption, and that in a moment we should all be shaken down its almost vertical sides; but as the rocks ceased coming down we continued our ascent, and soon stood on the rim of the crater. The mystery concerning the falling rocks was now solved. One of our number had reached the summit before the rest of us, and, with the aid of a native, had been tumbling off rocks for the sport of seeing them bound down the mountain, having stupidly forgotten that we all had to wind part way round the peak before we could get up on the edge of the summit, and that those of the party who were not on the top must be directly beneath him.

The whole mountain is a great cone of small angular blocks of trachytic lava and volcanic sand, and the crater at its summit is only a conical cavity in the mass. It is about eighty feet deep and one hundred or one hundred and fifty yards in diameter. The area on the top is elliptical in form, about three hundred yards long and two hundred wide. This, on the eastern side, is composed of heaps of small lava-blocks, which are whitened on the exterior, and, in many places, quite incrusted with sulphur. Through the heaps of stones steam and sulphurous acid gas are continually rising, and we soon hurried around to the windward side to escape their suffocating fumes, and in a number of places we were glad to run, to prevent our shoes from being scorched by the hot rocks. On the western side of the crater the rim is largely composed of sand, and in one place[233] rises one hundred and twenty feet higher than on the eastern side. The top, therefore, partly opens toward the east, and from some of the higher parts of Lontar most of the area on the summit of this truncated cone can be seen. In the western part were many fissures, out of which rose sheets and jets of gas. When we had reached the highest point on the northwest side, we leaned over and looked directly down into the great active crater, a quarter of the distance from the summit to the sea. Dense volumes of steam and other gases were rolling up, and only now and then could we distinguish the edges of the deep, yawning abyss. Here we rested and lunched, enjoying meanwhile a magnificent view over the whole of the Banda group when the strangling gas was not blown into our faces. Again we continued around the northern side, and came down into an old crater, where was a large rock with “Ætna,” the name of a Dutch man-of-war, carved on one of its sides, and our captain busied himself for some time cutting “Telegraph,” the name of our yacht, beneath it. Great quantities of sulphur were seen here, more, the governor said, than he had noticed on any mountain in Java, for the abundance of sulphur they all yield is one of the characteristics of the volcanoes of this archipelago. It was now time to descend, and we called our guide, to whom some one had given the classical prænomen of Apollo (a more appropriate title at least than Mercury, for he never moved with winged feet); but he could not tell where we ought to go, every thing appeared so very different when we looked downward. I chose a place where the vegetation[234] was nearest the top, and asked him if I could go down there, to which, of course, he answered yes, as most people do when they do not know what to say, and must give some reply.

I had brought up with me an alpen-stock, or long stick, slightly curved at one end, and with this I reached down and broke places for my heels in the crust that covered the sand and loose stones. For hundreds of feet beneath me the descent seemed perpendicular, but I slowly worked my way downward for more than ninety feet, and had begun to congratulate myself on the good progress I was making. Soon, I thought, I shall be down there, where I can lay hold of that bush and feel that the worst is past, when I was suddenly startled by a shout from my companions, who were at some distance on my right. “Stop! Don’t go a step farther, but climb directly up just as you went down.” I now looked round for the first time, and found, to my astonishment, that I was on a tongue of land between two deep, long holes or fissures, where great land-slides had recently occurred. I had kept my attention so fixed on the bush before me that I had never looked to the right or left—generally a good rule in such trying situations. To go on was to increase my peril, so I turned, climbed up again, and passed round the head of one of these frightful holes. If at any time the crust had been weak, and had broken beneath my heels, no earthly power could have saved me from instant death. As I broke place after place for my feet with the staff, I thought of Professor Tyndal’s dangerous ascent and descent of Monte Rosa. At last I joined[235] my companions, who had found the way we had come up, and after some slips and sprains, and considerable bruising, we all reached the bottom safely, and were glad to be off the volcano, and, landing on Banda Neira, feel ourselves on terra firma once more.

For a few days I could scarcely walk or move my arms, but this lameness soon passed away; not so with the impressions made on my mind by those dangers: and even now, when I am suddenly aroused from sleep, for a moment the past becomes the present, and I am once more on the tongue of land, with a frightful gulf on either hand, or I am saving myself by grasping that fern.

According to the statements of the officials, many years ago a gentleman had the hardihood to attempt to ascend this mountain alone. As he did not return at the expected time, a party of natives was sent to search for him, and his dead body was found some distance beneath the summit. The rocks to which he had intrusted himself had probably given way, and the only sensation that could have followed was one of falling and a quick succession of stunning blows, and life was gone. Governor Arriens assured me that the band of loose stones was the most dangerous place he had ever crossed, though he had climbed many nearly perpendicular walls, but always where the rocks were fixed and could be relied on for a footing and a hold. If the ascent and descent were not so difficult, sulphur might be gathered in such quantities at the summit crater that it would form an important article of export. The authorities informed me that much was obtained in former times,[236] and that the natives who undertook this perilous climbing were always careful to array themselves in white before setting out, so that if they did lose their lives in the attempt they would be dressed in the robes required by their creed, and at once be taken to Paradise. The first European who reached its summit, so far as I am aware, was Professor Reinwardt, in 1821; the second was Dr. S. Müller, in 1828; and from that time till the 13th of September, 1865, when we ascended it, only one party had attempted this difficult undertaking, and that was from the steamer Ætna, whose name we had found on a large rock in the old crater.

The height of this volcano we found to be only two thousand three hundred and twenty-one English feet. Its spreading base is considerably less than two miles square. In size, therefore, it is insignificant compared to the gigantic mountains on Lombok, Java, and Sumatra; but when we consider the great amount of suffering and the immense destruction of property that has been caused by its repeated eruptions, it becomes one of the most important volcanoes in the archipelago.[37] In 1615 an eruption occurred in March, just as the Governor-General, Gerard Reynst, arrived from Java with a large fleet to complete the war of extermination that the Dutch had been waging with the aborigines for nearly twenty years.

For some time previous to 1820, many people[237] lived on the lower flanks of Gunong Api, and had succeeded in forming large groves of nutmeg-trees. On the 11th of June of that year, just before twelve o’clock, in an instant, without the slightest warning, an eruption began which was so violent that all the people at once fled to the shore and crossed over in boats to Banda Neira. Out of the summit rose perpendicularly great masses of ashes, sand, and stones, heated until they gave out light like living coals. The latter hailed down on every side, and, as the accounts say, “set fire to the woods and soon changed the whole mountain into one immense cone of flame.” This happened, unfortunately, during the western monsoon; and so great a quantity of sand and ashes was brought over to Banda Neira, that the branches of the nutmeg-trees were loaded down until they broke beneath its weight, and all the parks on the island were totally destroyed. Even the water became undrinkable, from the light ashes that filled the air and settled down in every crevice. The eruption continued incessantly for thirteen days, and did not wholly cease at the end of six weeks. During this convulsion the mountain was apparently split through in a north-northwest and south-southeast direction. The large, active crater which we saw beneath us on the northwestern flanks of the mountain, from the spot where we stopped to lunch, was formed at that time, and another was reported higher up between that new crater and the older one on the top of the mountain. A stream of lava poured down the western side into a small bay, and built up a tongue of land one hundred and eighty[238] feet long. The fluid rock heated the sea within a radius of more than half a mile, and nearer the shore eggs were cooked in it. This stream of lava is the more remarkable, because it is a characteristic of the volcanoes throughout the archipelago, that, instead of pouring out molten rock, they only eject hot stones, sand, and ashes, and such materials as are thrown up where the eruptive force has already reached its maximum and is growing weaker and weaker.

On the 22d of April, 1824, while Governor-General Van der Capellen was entering the road, an eruption commenced, just as had happened two hundred and nine years before, on the arrival of Governor-General Reynst. A great quantity of ashes again suddenly rose from its summit, accompanied by clouds of “black smoke,” in which lightnings darted, while a heavy thundering rolled forth that completely drowned the salute from the forts on Neira. This was followed, on the 9th of June, by a second eruption, which was succeeded by a rest of fourteen days, when the volcano again seemed to have regained its strength, and once more ashes and glowing stones were hurled into the air and fell in showers on its sides.

But the people of Banda have suffered quite as much from earthquakes as from eruptions, though the latter are usually attended by slight shocks.[38] Almost the first objects that attract one’s attention on landing at the village are the ruins caused by[239] the last of these destructive phenomena. Many houses were levelled to the ground, but others that were built with special care suffered little injury. Their walls are made of coral rock or bricks. They are two or three feet thick and covered with layers of plaster. At short distances, along their outer side, sloping buttresses are placed against them, so that many of the Banda residences look almost as much like fortifications as dwelling-houses. The first warning any one had of the destruction that was coming was a sudden streaming out of the water from the enclosed bay, until the war-brig Haai, which was lying at anchor in eight or nine fathoms, touched the bottom. Then came in a great wave from the ocean which rose at least to a height of twenty-five or thirty feet over the low, western part of the village, which is only separated from Gunong Api by the narrow Sun Strait. The praus lying near this shore were swept up against Fort Nassau, which was then so completely engulfed, as it was stated to me on the spot, that one of these native boats remained inside the fort when the water had receded to its usual level. The part of the village over which the flood swept contained many small houses, and nearly every one in them was carried away. The rapid outflowing of the water of this enclosed bay (which is really only an old crater) was probably caused either by the elevation of the bottom at that spot, or else by such a sinking of the floor of the sea outside, that the water was drained off into some depression which had suddenly been formed. We have no reason to suppose that there was any great[240] commotion in the open ocean, and certainly there was no high wave or bore, or it would have risen on the shores of the neighboring islands. There are three entrances or straits which lead from the road out to the open sea. Two of these are wide and one is narrow. When the whole top of the old volcano, that is, Banda Neira, Gunong Api, Lontar, and the area they enclose, was raised for a moment, the water steamed out from the crater through these straits, causing only strong currents, but as the land instantly sank to its former level, the water poured in, and the streams of the two wider straits, meeting and uniting, rolled on toward the inner end of the narrow strait. Here they all met, and, piling up, spread out over the adjoining low village, causing a great destruction of life. At the Resident’s house, a few hundred yards east of Fort Nassau, the water only rose some ten or fifteen feet above high-water level, and farther east still less. The cause assigned above, though the principal one, may therefore not have been sufficient in itself to have made the sea rise so high over the southwestern part of Banda Neira and the opposite part of Gunong Api, and I suspect that an additional cause was that the land there sank for a moment below its proper level. Valentyn thus describes another less destructive earthquake wave: “In the year 1629 there was a great earthquake, and half an hour afterward a flood which was very great, and came in calm weather. The sea between Neira and Selam” (on the western part of Lontar) “rose up like a high mountain and struck on the right side of Fort Nassau, where the[241] water rose nine feet higher than in common spring floods. Several houses near the sea were broken into pieces and washed away, and the ship Briel, lying near by, was whirled round three times.”[39]

However, all these events are but as yesterday when we glance over the early history of this ancient volcano; for, if we can judge by analogy, taking as our guide the great crater already referred to as this day existing among the lofty Tenger Mountains on Java, we see in our mind’s eye an immense volcanic mountain before us. From its high crater during the lapse of time pour out successive overflows of lava which has solidified into the trachyte of Lontar. That period is succeeded by one in which ashes, sand, and hot stones are ejected, and which insensibly passes into recent times. During one of these mighty throes the western half of the crater-wall disappeared beneath the sea, if the process of subsidence had gone on so far at that time. Slowly it sinks until it is at least four feet lower than at the present day, for we found on the western end of Lontar a large bank of coral rock at that height. The outer islands are now wholly submerged. This period of subsidence is followed by one of upheaval, but not till the slow-building coral polyps had made great reefs, which have become white, chalky cliffs, and attained their present elevation above the sea. A tropical vegetation by degrees[242] spreads downward, closely pursuing the retreating sea, and the islands become exactly what they are at the present day.

The Banda group form but a point in the wide area of the residency of Banda. All the eastern part of Ceram is included in it, the southwest coast of New Guinea, and the many islands south and southwest to the northern part of Timur. Southeast of Ceram are the Ceram-laut, that is, “Ceram lying to seaward,” or Keffing group, numbering seventeen islands. Their inhabitants are like those I saw on the south coast of Ceram, and do not belong to the Papuan or negro race. They are great traders, and constantly visit the adjoining coast of New Guinea, where they purchase birds of paradise, many luris or parrots of various genera, “crown pigeons,” Megapodiideæ, scented woods, and very considerable quantities of wild nutmegs, which they sell to the Bugis traders, who usually touch here at Banda on their outward and homeward passages. I saw many of the wild nutmegs that had been brought in this way from New Guinea. Instead of being spherical, like those cultivated here at Banda, they are elliptical in outline, frequently an inch or an inch and a quarter long, and about three-fourths of an inch in diameter. They do not, however, have the rich, pungent aroma of the Banda nutmegs, and this, I am assured, is also the case with all wild ones wherever found, and even with those raised on Sumatra and Pinang from seeds and plants originally carried from these islands. Wild nutmegs are also found on Damma southwest of Banda, and on Amboina, Ceram,[243] Buru, Batchian, the Obi Islands, and Gilolo, also on the islands east of the latter, and on the northern coast of the western part of New Guinea. This fruit is widely planted by the “nut-crackers,” two large species of doves, Columba ænea, Tem., and Columba perspicillata, Tem., which swallow the nuts covered with the mace, the only part digested. The kernel enclosed in its hard, polished shell is soon voided, while it yet retains the germinating power, and a young tree springs up far from its parent.

East of this group is that of Goram, composed of three islands, inhabited by natives who are Mohammedans. Southeast of Goram is the Matabella group. Indeed, these groups are so united that they form but one archipelago. The Ceram-laut Islands are low, but those of Goram and Matabella are high. On the island Teor, or Tewer, in the last group, there is a volcano which suffered a great eruption in 1659. Mr. Wallace describes the Matabellas as partly composed of coral reefs raised from three to four hundred feet. Sometimes these people go as far west as Sumbawa and Bali. The “Southeastern Islands” begin on the north with the Ki group, ten in number, south of the former archipelago. Three of the Kis are large islands and two are high, a peak on one being estimated at about three thousand feet. They are so well peopled that they are supposed to contain over twenty thousand souls. The natives are very industrious, and famous as boat-builders. The wood they use comes from their own hill-sides, and they need no iron to complete boats of considerable size, which they sell to the inhabitants of all that part of[244] the archipelago. Farther to the east are the Aru (in Dutch, Aroe) Islands, that is, “the islands of the casuarina-trees.” They number about eighty, and are very low, forming a chain about a hundred miles long and half as broad. When seen on the west they appear as one continuous, low island; but on coming nearer, intricate channels are found winding among them, through which set strong tidal currents. The people are said to closely resemble those of Haruku, Saparua, and Nusalaut. The total population is given at only fourteen thousand. A few are Christians, and two or three native schoolmasters from Amboina are employed there. Papuans are said to live on the most eastern island. Large quantities of tripang are gathered on the shallow coral banks of these low islands, and in the sea the dugong, Halicore dugong, Cuv., is seen. The great bird of paradise, P. apoda, is found here, and also the red bird of paradise, P. regia. The skins of these beautiful birds were probably brought here to Banda and sold to the Chinese traders for many ages, but the first account we have of them is by Pigafetta, who accompanied Magellan’s fleet. He says that the king of Bachian, an island west of the southern end of Gilolo, gave his companions a slave and nearly two hundred pounds of cloves as a present for their Emperor, Charles V., and also “two most beautiful dead birds. These are about the size of a thrush, have small heads, long bills, legs a palm in length and as slender as a writing-quill. In lieu of proper wings, they have long feathers of different colors, like great ornamental plumes. The tail resembles that[245] of a thrush. All the feathers except those of the wings are of a dark color. It never flies except when the wind blows. We were informed these birds came from the terrestrial Paradise, and they called them bolondinata,[40] that is, ‘birds of God.’” This word the Portuguese translated into their language as “ave de paraiso,” and hence our name “birds of paradise,” a name well chosen, for in some species the feathers have all the appearance of the most brilliant jewels. Southwest of the Ki Islands lies Timur-laut, and passing on toward Timur we come to the “Southwestern Islands,” composed of the Baba, Sermatta, Letti, Roma, Wetta, and Lamma groups, which we noticed as we steamed away from Dilli.

Returning northward from Wetta, we come to Gunong Api, an uninhabited volcano, rising between six and seven thousand feet above the sea. It is a well-known landmark for the ships bound to China that have passed up the Ombay Passage, or those coming down the Floris Sea, intending to pass out through that strait into the Indian Ocean. Northeast of Gunong Api are the Lucipara and Turtle (in Dutch Schilpad) Islands, which praus from Amboina frequently visit for tortoise-shell. East of Gunong Api is Nila, an active volcano, about seventeen hundred feet in height, and north of it is Serua, which is merely a volcanic cone rising abruptly from the sea. In 1694 a great eruption took place in this volcano. A part of the crater wall fell in, and the lava overflowed until the whole island is represented[246] as having become one “sea of fire,” and all the inhabitants were obliged to flee to Banda. Again, in September, 1844, after a rest of a hundred and fifty years, another eruption began, which compelled every one to leave its inhospitable shores once more. Since that time it has been settled again, and here in Banda are many of the boats its people bring in the latter part of this month, when continuously for days not a breeze ripples the glassy sea—halcyon days indeed. As the natives have no iron, the whole boat is built of wood. The central part is low, but the bow and stern curve up high, quite different from all I have seen in any other part of the archipelago, and reminding one of the representations usually given of those used in some parts of the South Sea.

While I had been turning my attention to geology, the native who was assisting me to collect shells was searching for a “hunter,” that is, one who can skin birds. He soon had the good fortune to find one, who was also a native of Amboina, for all these natives dislike those of another village, and only associate with them when they can find none of their own people. During the few days we were at the Bandas they collected several species of most beautiful kingfishers; indeed, those who have seen only our sombre-colored specimens can scarcely conceive of the rich plumage these birds assume in the tropical East. They were also so fortunate as to find a few superb specimens of a very rare and valuable bird, with scarcely any tail, and having eight very different colors, the Pitta vigorsi. An allied species is found on the Arru Islands, and another on[247] Buru, a third on Gilolo, and a fourth on Celebes, but none is yet known on the great island of Ceram.

We now steamed back to Amboina, and while the yacht was taking in coal and preparing to go to Ceram, I crossed over Laitimur with the governor. Our procession was headed by a native carrying a large Dutch flag, and after him came a “head man,” supported on the right by a man beating a tifa, and on the left by another beating a gong. Then came the governor, borne in a large chair by a dozen coolies, and I, in a similar chair, carried by the same number. From the city we at once ascended a series of hills, sparsely covered with shrubbery, and composed of a soft red sandstone, which is rapidly disintegrating, and is evidently of very recent origin. It is found on the highest elevation we crossed, which is from fifteen to eighteen hundred feet above the sea. Near this point we descended into a small ravine, where the soft sandstone had been washed away, and the underlying rocks were exposed to view. Here we found feldspathic porphyry and serpentine. Thence we crossed other hills of sandstone and came down to the sea-shore at the village of Rutong. We were hoping to find a small hill of granite that Dr. Schneider had discovered, but we were not able to identify the places he describes. Dr. Bleeker, who crossed over to Ema in 1856, remarks that the first hills he ascended were composed of coral rock, and that he came on to it again when he descended toward the sea-shore. We did not notice it at this time, but, on my first excursion to the cocoa plantation on Hitu, I found a long coral reef, fully five[248] hundred feet above the sea. It was a perfect repetition of the reef I visited in the bay of the Portuguese village of Dilli, at the northern end of Timur. A small place had been cleared on its crest, and there I found several pairs of the huge valves of the Tridacna gigas, which appeared from their relative position to have been once partially surrounded by the soft coral rock, which, having been washed away, allowed the valves to fall apart. They were much decayed, but had not lost more than half their weight. They had evidently never been brought there by men; because the natives rarely or never use them for food. There is no need that they should take the trouble to gather such enormous bivalves when they have a plenty of sago-palms, and all that it is necessary for them to do to obtain an abundance of food is to cut down these trees and dig out the pith. If, in former times, they did collect the Tridacna for food, they never would have carried these great shells, each of which originally weighed a hundred pounds or more, a mile back among the hills, but would have taken out the animal and left them on the shore. Governor Arriens, who had carefully studied these recent reefs, stated to me that he had found them as high up as eight hundred feet above the sea, but at that elevation they seem to disappear.

When returning we stopped for some time on the hills back of the city to enjoy a magnificent view of the bay and the high hills rising on the opposite side. Just then the broad strati, floating in the west, parted, and rays of bright sunlight, darting through their fissures, lighted up the dark water beneath us. There[249] were not many vessels and praus at anchor off the city at that time, but I was informed that in about a month later many would arrive, for the dry season, with its clear sky and light winds, had set in about the 15th of September, when we arrived from Banda.

About two hundred vessels and praus of all kinds come to Amboina in a year. The praus are owned and commanded by the natives themselves, but most of the vessels are commanded by mestizoes and owned by Arabs and Chinese, who carry on the larger part of the trade in the eastern part of the archipelago. Since a line of steamers has been established, these Arabs and Chinese avail themselves of that means of importing their goods from Batavia and Surabaya, where they are received directly from Europe. The total value of the imports is from a half to three-quarters of a million of guilders. The chief article is cotton fabrics, and the next rice, which is shipped here all the way from Java and Sumatra for the sustenance of the troops. Very little rice is raised on any of these islands, because there are no low, level lands suitable for its cultivation. In the Bandas the whole attention of the population is so devoted to cultivating the nutmeg that they are entirely dependent on other islands for a supply of food. The most important exports from this island are cloves, cocoa, kayu-puti oil, nutmegs, various kinds of woods, and mace. Formerly the inhabitants of Ceram-laut, Goram, and the Arru Islands were accustomed to bring their tripang, tortoise-shell, paradise birds, and massoi-bark to this port to sell to the Bugis, but for the last forty or fifty years the Bugis have gone from Macassar directly to those islands and traded with the people at their own villages. In 1854, Amboina, Banda, Ternate, and Kayéli, were made free ports, but this has not materially increased the trade at any of those places.

The period when the trade at Amboina was most flourishing was when it was last held by the English, from 1814 to 1816. The port was then free, but, when it once more passed into the hands of the Dutch, duties were again demanded, which forced the trade into other channels, where it still remains, notwithstanding there are now no duties. The proper remedy has been applied, but applied too late. This is also the history of the trade at Batavia, where the heavy duties have induced the traders of the eastern part of the archipelago to sail directly to the free port of Singapore.

I had been at Amboina a long time before I could ascertain where the grave of Rumphius is located, and even then I found it only by chance—so rarely is this great man spoken of at the present time. From the common, back of the fort, a beautifully-shaded street leads up to the east; and the stranger, while walking in this quiet retreat, has his attention drawn to a small, square pillar in a garden. A thick group of coffee-trees almost embrace it in their drooping branches, as if trying to protect it from wind and rain and the consuming hand of Time. Under that plain monument rest the mortal remains of the great naturalist.

The inscription, which explains itself, and shows[251] how nearly this sacred spot came to be entirely neglected and forgotten forever, reads as follows:

MEMORIÆ SAORUM GEORGII EVERARDI RUMPHII,
de re botanica et historica naturali optime merita
TUMULUM
dira temporis calamitate et sacrilegia manufere
DIRUTUM,
Manibas placatis restitui jussit
et
pietatem reverentiamque publicam testificans
HOC MONUMENTUM
IPSE CONSECRAVIT
Godaras Alexander Grardus Phillipus
Liber Baro A. Capellen
Totius Indiæ Belgicæque
PREFECTUS REGIUS.
Amboinæ Mensis Aprilis,
Anno Domini M.DCCC.XXIV.

George Everard Rumpf, whose name has been latinized into Rumphius, as an acknowledgment of the great service he has rendered to the scientific world, was a German, a native of a small town in Hesse-Cassel. He was born about the year 1626, and, having studied medicine, at the age of twenty-eight went to Batavia, entered the mercantile service of the Dutch East India Company, and thence proceeded to Amboina, where he passed the remainder of his life. At the age of forty-two, while contemplating a voyage back to his native land, he suddenly became blind, and therefore never left his adopted island home; yet he continued to prosecute his favorite studies in natural history till his death, which occurred in 1693, when he had attained the ripe age of sixty-seven.

His great work on the shells of Amboina, which was not published till 1705, twelve years after his death, was for a long time the acknowledged standard to which all conchological writers referred. His most extensive work, however, was the “Hortus Amboinense,” which was only rescued from the Dutch archives and published at the late date of forty-eight years after his death. It contains the names and careful descriptions of the plants of this region, their flowering seasons, their habitats, their uses, and the modes of caring for those that are cultivated. When we consider that, in his time, neither botany nor zoology had become a science, and consider, moreover, the amount and the accuracy of the information he gives us, we agree with his contemporaries in giving him the high but well-merited title of “the Indian Pliny.”