THE FLORA AND FAUNA OF THE TROPICAL EAST.
_June 15th._—At 8 A. M. we left our anchorage off Surabaya, and steamed
down the Madura Strait for Macassar, the capital of Celebes. Along the
shores of the strait were many villages of fishermen, and bamboo weirs
extending out to a distance of five or six miles from both the Java
and Madura shores, and showing well how shallow the water must be so
far from land. During the forenoon it was nearly calm, but the motion
of the steamer supplied a pleasant air. In the afternoon the wind rose
to a light breeze from the east. At noon we passed Pulo Kambing (“Goat
Island”), a small, low coral island off the south coast of Madura. Near
by was a fleet of small fishing-boats, each containing two men, who were
only protected from the broiling sun by a hat and a narrow cloth about
the loins. These boats and other larger ones farther out to sea were
extremely narrow, and provided with outriggers.
Madura receives its name from a Hindu legend, which makes it the abode of
the demigod, Baladewa. It has but one mountain-range, and that crosses it
from north to south. It is, therefore, not well watered, and unsuitable
for raising rice; and many of its people have been obliged to migrate to
the adjoining fertile shores of Java. The coffee-tree is raised on this
island, but the land is best adapted for pasturage of the _sapi_, which
is similar in its habits to our own neat-cattle, and never wallows in
mires and morasses like the buffalo. In the mountains on the western part
of Java, a wild species, the _banteng_ (_Bos sondaicus_), is still found.
It is not regarded as the source of the _sapi_, but a fertile cross is
obtained from the two, and this intermediate breed is said to be the one
used on Bali and Lombok. The _sapi_ is found on all the islands to and
including Timur, on Borneo, Celebes, and the Spice Islands, and has been
introduced into the Philippines since their discovery, and now lives in a
wild state on Luzon, just as the cattle of the pampas in South America,
which have also descended from the domesticated breeds imported by the
Spaniards.
On the eastern end of the island, which is quite low, great quantities
of salt are obtained by evaporating water in “pans,” or small areas
enclosed with low dikes, like rice-fields. It is also manufactured in a
similar manner at several places on the north coast of Java and on the
western shore of Luzon, in the province of Pangasinan. Generally the
coasts of the islands throughout the archipelago are either too high,
or so low as to form merely muddy morasses, which are mostly covered
with a dense growth of mangroves. In some places on the south coast of
Java, sea-water is sprinkled over sand. When this water has evaporated,
the process is repeated. The sand is then gathered, and water filtered
through it and evaporated by artificial heat. In Borneo, and among some
of the Philippines, marine plants are burned, and the lye made from their
ashes is evaporated for the sake of the salt contained in the residuum.
All through the interior, and among the mountains, houses are built for
storing it, and officials are appointed to dispose of it to the natives.
The quantity yearly manufactured for the government at all the various
places is about 40,000 koyangs, or 80,000 tons; but it is not allowed to
be shipped and used until it is five years old, and a supply of 200,000
koyangs, or 400,000 tons, is therefore constantly kept on hand. It is
deposited in the government store-houses by individuals at one-third of
a guilder per picul. It is then transported and sold at a great profit
by the government, which monopolizes the traffic in this necessary
condiment, and obtains a large portion of its revenue in this manner.[10]
In the afternoon we were abreast the high Tenger (i. e., wide or
spacious) mountains. Here is the famous “Sandy Sea,” a strange thing on
an island covered with such luxuriant vegetation as everywhere appears in
Java. To reach it one has to climb an old volcano to a height of about
7,500 feet above the sea, when he suddenly finds himself on the rim of
an old crater of an irregular elliptical form, with a minor axis of
_three and a half_ and a major axis of _four and a half miles_. It is the
largest crater in Java, and one of the largest in the world. Its bottom
is a level floor of sand, which in some places is drifted by the wind
like the sea, and is properly named in Malay the Laut Pasar, or “Sandy
Sea.” From this sandy floor rise four cones, where the eruptive force
has successively found vent for a time, the greatest being evidently the
oldest, and the smallest the present active Bromo, or Brama, from the
Sanscrit Brama, the god of fire. The position and relation of this Bromo,
as compared to the surrounding crater, is entirely analogous to those
that exist between Vesuvius and Monte Somma. The outer walls of this old
mountain are of trachytic lava, and Dr. Junghuhn thinks its history may
be summed up thus: first, a period when the trachyte was formed; this
was followed by a period of trachytic lavas, then of obsidian; fourth,
of obsidian and pumice-stone; fifth, the sand period, during which an
enormous quantity of sand was thrown out, and the present sandy floor
formed with the cones rising from it; and sixth, the present ash-period,
during which only fine ashes are thrown out from time to time, and steam
and sulphurous acid gas are constantly emitted.
The earliest descriptions of this crater represent it nearly as it is
seen at the present day; but great eruptions, similar to the one supposed
to have occurred, have been witnessed by Europeans since they first
came to Java. In the year 1772 the volcano Papandayang, which is near
the south coast of Java, and about in Long. 108° E., threw out such
an immense quantity of scoriæ and ashes, that Dr. Junghuhn thinks a
layer nearly fifty feet thick was spread over an area within a radius
of seven miles; and yet all this was thrown out during a single night.
Forty native villages were buried beneath it, and about three thousand
souls are supposed to have perished between this single setting and
rising of the sun. Dr. Horsfield, who drew up an account of this terrible
phenomenon from the stories of the natives, wrongly supposed that “an
extent of ground, of the mountain and its environs, fifteen miles long,
and full six broad, was by this commotion swallowed up within the bowels
of the earth.”
On the 8th of July, 1822, Mount Galunggong, an old volcano, but a
few miles northeast of Papandayang, suffered a far more terrible and
destructive eruption. At noon on that day not a cloud could be seen in
the sky. The wild beasts gladly sought the friendly shades of the dense
forest; the hum of myriads of insects was hushed, and not a sound was to
be heard over the highly-cultivated declivities of this mountain, or over
the rich adjoining plain, but the dull creaking of some native cart drawn
by the sluggish buffalo. The natives, under shelter of their rude huts,
were giving themselves up to indolent repose, when suddenly a frightful
thundering was heard in the earth; and from the top of this old volcano
a dark, dense mass was seen rising higher and higher into the air, and
spreading itself out over the clear sky with such an appalling rapidity
that in a few moments the whole landscape was shrouded in the darkness of
night.
Through this thick darkness flashes of lightning gleamed in a hundred
lines, and many natives were instantly struck down to the earth by stones
falling from the sky. Then a deluge of hot water and flowing mud rose
over the rim of the old crater, and poured down the mountain-sides,
sweeping away trees and beasts and human bodies in its seething mass.
At the same moment, stones and ashes and sand were projected to an
enormous height into the air, and, as they fell, destroyed nearly every
thing within a radius of more than twenty miles. A few villages, that
were situated on high hills on the lower declivities of the mountain,
strangely escaped the surrounding destruction by being above the streams
of hot water and flowing mud, while most of the stones and ashes and sand
that were thrown out passed completely over them, and destroyed many
villages that were farther removed from the centre of this great eruption.
The thundering was first heard at half-past one o’clock. At four the
extreme violence of the eruption was past; at five the sky began to grow
clear once more, and the same sun that at noon had shed his life-giving
light over this rich landscape, at evening was casting his rays over
the same spot then changed into a scene of utter desolation. A second
eruption followed within five days, and by that time more than _twenty
thousand_ persons had lost their lives.
When the mountain could be ascended, a great valley was found, which Dr.
Junghuhn considers analogous to the “Val del Bove” on the flanks of
Ætna, except that a great depression among these movable materials could
not have such high, precipitous walls as are seen in that deep gulf.
This eruption was quite like that of Papandayang, except that there was
a lake in the bottom of this crater which supplied the hot water and the
mud, while all the materials thrown out by the former volcano were in
a dry state. In a similar way it is supposed the great crater and the
“Sandy Sea” of the Tenger Mountains were formed in ancient times. On
these Tenger Mountains live a peculiar people, who speak a dialect of the
Javanese, and, despite the zealous efforts of the Mohammedan priests,
still retain their ancient Hindu religion.
In the evening, fires appeared on the hills near the sea. This was the
last we saw of Java, which, though but one-sixth of the area of Borneo,
and one-third that of Sumatra, is by far the most important island in the
archipelago. It is to the East Indies what Cuba is to the West Indies.
In each there is a great central chain of mountains. Both shores of Cuba
are opposite small bodies of water, and are continuously low and swampy
for miles, but in Java only the north coast borders on a small sea.
This shore is low, but the southern coast, on the margin of the wide
Indian Ocean that stretches away to the Antarctic lands, is high and
bold, an exception which is in accordance with the rule that the higher
elevations are opposite the greater oceans, or, more properly, that they
stand along the borders of the ocean-beds or greatest depressions on
the surface of our globe. In Java, where the coast is rocky, the rocks
are hard volcanic basalts and trachytes, which resist the action of the
sea, and the shore-line is therefore quite regular; but in Cuba there is
a fringing of soft coral rock, which the waves quickly wear away into
hundreds of little projecting headlands and bays, and on the map the
island has a ragged border. In its geological structure, Cuba, with its
central axis of mica slates, granitic rocks, serpentines, and marbles,
has a more perfect analogue in Sumatra; for in Java the mountains,
instead of being formed by elevations of preëxisting strata, are merely
heaps of scoriæ, ashes, sand, and rock, once fluid, which have all been
ejected out of separate and distinct vents. The area of Java is estimated
at 38,250 square geographical miles; that of Cuba at about 45,000. The
length of Java is 575 geographical or 666 statute miles; that of Cuba
750 statute miles. But while the total population of Cuba is estimated
only at a million and a half, the total population of Java and Madura is
now (1865), according to official statements, 13,917,368.[11] In 1755,
after fifteen years of civil war, the total population of Java and Madura
was but 2,001,911. In a single century, therefore, it has increased more
than sixfold. This is one of the beneficial effects of a government that
can put down rebellions and all internal wars, and encourage industry.
In Cuba, of a total area of thirty million acres, it was estimated, in
1857, that only 48,572 were under cultivation, or, including pasturage,
218,161 acres. In Java and Madura, last year (1864), the cultivated
fields and the groves of cocoa-nut palms covered an area of 2,437,037
acres. In Cuba, from 1853 to 1858, the yearly exports were from
27,000,000 to 32,000,000 of dollars, and the imports of about the same
value. In Java, last year, the imports amounted to 66,846,412 guilders
(26,738,565 dollars); and the exports to the enormous sum of 123,094,798
guilders (49,237,919 dollars). During 1864 twenty-four ships arrived from
the United States, of 12,610 tons’ capacity, and three sailed for our
country, of a united capacity of 2,258 tons.[12]
Both of these great islands abound in forests, that yield large
quantities of valuable timber. Java furnishes the indestructible teak,
from which the Malays and Javanese fitted out a fleet of three hundred
vessels that besieged Malacca, two years after it had fallen into the
hands of the Portuguese. In like manner the Spaniards, between 1724 and
1796, built with timber from the forests of Cuba an armada that numbered
one hundred and fourteen vessels, carrying more than four thousand guns.
From the Cuban forests come the indestructible _lignum-vitæ_, and the
beautiful mahogany. Those jungles shelter no wild animals larger than
dogs, but these in Java are the haunts of wild oxen, tigers, one large
and two small species of leopard, the rhinoceros, two wild species of
hog, and five species of weasel. Two of the latter yield musk; and
one, the _Viverra musanga_, of the size of a cat, is also found in
the Philippines. Six species of deer are found on this island, and
two of them, the _Cervus rufa_ and _Cervus mantjac_, are sometimes
domesticated.[13] The elephant is not found in Java, though it lives in
Sumatra, Borneo, and the peninsula. Also the wild horse of Sumatra or
Celebes does not exist in Java.
Among the more noticeable birds of Java is a beautiful species of
peacock, the _Pavo spicifer_. It was represented to me as quite abundant
in some places along the south coast. The natives make very beautiful
cigar-holders from fine strips of its quills. In Sumatra it is not found,
but is represented by an allied species. Of pigeons, Java has no less
than ten species. The web-footed birds are remarkably few in species and
numbers. A single duck, a teal, and two pelicans, are said to comprise
the whole number. The white heron has already been noticed, and besides
this, ten other species have been described. One of the smallest birds in
Java, and yet, perhaps, the most important, from its great numbers, is
the rice-eater, _Fringilla oryzivora_, a kind of sparrow. Great flocks
of these birds are continually annoying the Malays as soon as the rice
is nearly grown. The natives have a very simple and effective mode
of driving them away. In the midst of a field a little bamboo house,
sufficient to shelter its occupant from the rain and scorching sunshine,
is perched high up on poles above the rice-stalks. Around each field are
placed rows of tall, flexible stakes, which are connected together by
a string. Many radiating lines of such stakes extend from the house to
those along the borders, and the child or old person on watch has simply
to pull any set of these lines in order to frighten away the birds from
any part of the field. There are seven species of owls, and when the
hooting of one is heard near any house, many of the natives believe that
sickness or some other misfortune will certainly come to the inmates
of that dwelling. Of eagles and falcons, or kites, eight species are
mentioned. One of the kites is very abundant at all the anchorages, and
so tame as to light on the rigging of a ship quite near where the sailors
are working. When it has caught any offal in its long talons, it does
not fly away at once to a perch to consume the delicious morsel at its
leisure, like many birds of prey, but is so extremely greedy that it
tears off pieces with its beak and swallows them as it slowly sails along
in the air.
When we begin to examine the luxuriant flora of these tropical islands,
almost the first tree that we notice by the shore is the tall, graceful
cocoa-nut palm. Occasionally it is found in small clumps, far from the
abode of man, for instead of being reared by his care, it often comes to
maturity alone, and then invites him to take up his abode beneath its
shade, by offering him at the same time its fruit for food, and its
leaves as ample thatching for the only kind of a hut which he thinks he
needs in an unchanging, tropical climate.
As it stands along the shore, it invariably inclines toward its parent,
the sea, for borne on the waves came the nut from which it sprang, and
now fully grown, it seeks to make a due return to its ancestor by leaning
over the shore and dropping into the ocean’s bosom rich clusters of its
golden fruit. Here, buoyed up by a thick husk which is covered with a
water-tight skin, the living kernel safely floats over the calm and the
stormy sea, until some friendly wave casts it high up on a distant beach.
The hot sun then quickly enables it to thrust out its rootlets into the
genial soil of coral sand and fragments of shells, and in a few years it
too is seen tossing its crest of plumes high over the white surf, which
in these sunny climes everywhere forms the margin of the deep-blue ocean.
When the nut is young, the shell is soft and not separate from the husk.
In a short time it turns from a pale green to a light yellow. The shell
is now formed, and on its inner side is a thin layer, so soft that it can
be cut with a spoon. The natives now call it _klapa muda_, or the young
cocoa-nut, and they rarely eat it except in this condition. As it grows
older, the exterior becomes of a wood-color, the husk is dry, and the
shell hard and surrounded on the inside with a thick, tough, oily, and
most indigestible layer, popularly known as “the meat” of the nut. This
is the condition in which it is brought to our markets, but the Malays
seldom or never think of eating it in this condition, and only value
it for its oil. To obtain this the nut is broken, and the meat scraped
out with a knife. This pulp is then boiled in a large pan, when the oil
separates, floats on the top, and is skimmed off. This oil is almost the
only substance used for lighting in the East, where far more lights are
kept burning, in proportion to the foreign population, than in our own
temperate zone, notwithstanding our long winter evenings, it being the
custom there for each man to light his house and veranda very brilliantly
every evening; and, if it is a festive occasion, rows of lamps must be
placed throughout his grounds.
The natives also are fond of such display. The common lamp which they
have for burning cocoa-nut oil is nothing but a glass tumbler. This is
partly filled with water, a small quantity of oil is then poured in,
and on this float two small splints that support a piece of pith in a
vertical position for a wick. When the oil is first made, it has a sweet,
rich taste, but in such a hot climate it soon becomes extremely rancid,
and that used for cooking should not be more than two or three days old.
The cool, clear water which the young nuts contain is a most refreshing
drink in those hot climates, far preferable, according to my taste, to
the warm, muddy water usually found in all low lands within the tropics.
Especially can one appreciate it when, exposed to the burning sun on a
low coral island, he longs for a single draught from the cold sparkling
streams among his native New-England hills. He looks around him and
realizes that he is surrounded by the salt waters of the ocean—then one
of his dark attendants, divining his desire, climbs the smooth trunk of a
lofty palm, and brings down, apparently from the sky, a nectar delicious
enough for the gods.
This tree is of such importance to the natives that the Dutch officials
are required to ascertain as nearly as possible the number of them in
their several districts. In 1861 there were in Java and Madura nearly
twenty millions of these trees, or more than three to every two natives.
Near the cocoa-nut grows the _Pandanus_, or “screw-pine,” which may be
correctly described as a trunk with branches at both ends. There are two
species of it widely distributed over the archipelago. The flowers of
one, the _P. odoratissimus_, are very fragrant and highly prized among
the Malays. In some places mats and baskets are made from its leaves. Its
woody fruit is of a spherical form, from four to six inches in diameter,
and its surface is divided with geometrical precision by projections of a
pointed pyramidal or diamond shape.
On the low lands, back from the shore, where the soil has been enriched
with vegetable mould, the banana thrives. Unlike the cocoa-nut tree, it
is seldom seen where it has not been planted by the hand of man. The
traveller, therefore, who is worn out with his long wanderings through
the thick, almost impassable, jungles, beholds with delight the long,
green, drooping leaves of this tree. He knows that he is near some native
hut where he can find a shelter from the hot sun, and slake his thirst
with the water of the cocoa-nut, and appease his hunger on bananas and
boiled rice, a simple and literally a _frugal_ meal. Out of the midst of
these drooping leaves hangs down the top of the main stem, with its fruit
decreasing in size to the end. Some near the base are already changing
from a dark green to a bright golden yellow. Those are filled with
delicious juices, and they melt in your mouth like a delicately-flavored
cream. Such bananas as can be purchased in our markets have been so
bruised, and taste so little like this fruit at its home in the tropics,
or at least in the East Indian islands, that they scarcely serve to
remind one of what he has been accustomed to enjoy. The number of the
varieties of bananas and the difference between them is as great as among
apples in our own land.
Botanists call this tree the _Musa paradisiaca_, for its fruit is so
constantly ripening throughout the year, and is such a common article of
food, that it corresponds well to “the tree that yielded her fruit every
month,” and whose “leaves were for the healing of the nations.”
Besides these plants, there are also seen on the low lands _Aroideæ_,
_Amaranthaceæ_, papilionaceous or leguminous plants, and poisonous
_Euphorbiaceæ_. The papaw (_Carica papaya_) thrives luxuriantly on most
soils. The natives are always fond of it, and I found it a most palatable
fruit, but the Europeans in the East generally consider it a too coarse
or common fruit to be placed on the table. It was evidently introduced
by the Portuguese and Spanish from the West Indies, and the Malay name
_papaya_ comes from the Spanish _papayo_.
At the height of one thousand feet ferns appear in very considerable
numbers, and here also the useful bamboo grows in abundance, though it
is found all the way down to the level of the sea. Practically this is a
tree, but botanically it is grass, though it sometimes attains a height
of seventy or eighty feet. It is used by the natives for the walls of
their huts. For this purpose it is split open and pressed out flat, and
other perpendicular and horizontal pieces hold it in place. It is also
used for masts, spear-handles, baskets, vessels of all kinds, and for
so many other necessary articles, that it seems almost indispensable to
them. Its outer surface becomes so hard when partially burned, that it
will take a sharp, almost cutting edge, and the weapons of the natives
were probably all made in this manner previous to the introduction of
iron. At the present time sharpened stakes, _ranjaus_, of this kind
are driven into the ground in the tall grass surrounding a _ladang_ or
garden, so that any native with naked feet (except the owner) will spear
himself in attempting to approach. I saw one man, on the island of Bum,
who had received a frightful, ragged wound in this way.
Above one thousand feet the palms, bananas, and papilionaceous plants
become fewer, and are replaced by the lofty fig or _waringin_, which,
with its high top and long branches, rivals the magnificent palms by the
sea-shore. The liquidambar also accompanies the fig. Orchidaceous plants
of the most wonderful forms appear on the forest-trees, and are fastened
to them so closely, that they seem to be parts of them. Here the ferns
also are seen in great variety. _Loranthaceæ_ and _Melanostomaceæ_ are
found in this zone. To this region belongs the beautiful cotton-wood
tree. Its trunk is seldom more than ten or twelve inches in diameter,
and rises up almost perpendicularly thirty feet. The bark is of a light
olive-green, and remarkably smooth and fair. The limbs shoot out in
whorls at right angles to the trunk, and, as they are separated by a
considerable space, their open foliage is in strong contrast to the
dark, dense jungle out of which they usually rise. They thrive well also
along the banks of rivers. In Java these trees are frequently used as
telegraph-posts—a purpose for which they are admirably adapted on account
of their regularity. Besides, any thing but a living post would quickly
decay in these tropical lands. The fruit is a pod, and the fibrous
substance it yields is quite like cotton. I found it very suitable for
stuffing birds.
Over this region of the fig comes that of oaks and laurels. Orchidaceous
plants and melastomas are more abundant here.
Above five or six thousand feet are _Rubiaceæ_, heaths, and cone-bearing
trees; and from this region we pass up into one where small ferns abound,
and lichens and mosses cover the rocks and hang from the trees. The
tropical world is now beneath us, and we are in the temperate zone.
The tops of all those volcanic mountains that are still in a state of
eruption are usually bare; and in others so large a quantity of the
sulphur they produce is washed down their sides by the rains that the
vegetation is frequently destroyed for some distance below their summits.
One of the great privileges of a residence in the tropics is to enjoy
the delicious fruits of those regions in all their perfection. Of all
those fruits, in my opinion, the _mangostin_ ought unquestionably to
be considered the first. This tree, a _Garcinia_, is about the size of
a pear-tree. Its Malay name is _manggusta_, whence our own, but it is
more generally known in the archipelago by the Javanese name _manggis_.
It flourishes in most of the islands from the south coast of Java to
Mindanao, the southernmost of the Philippines. On the continent it yields
well as far up the Peninsula of Malacca as Bankok, in Siam, and in the
interior to 16° N., but on the coast of the Bay of Bengal only to 14° N.
The attempts to introduce it into India have failed, but the fruit is
sometimes sent from Singapore after it has been carefully coated with
wax to exclude the air. In Ceylon they have only partially succeeded
in cultivating it. All the trials to raise it in the West Indies have
proved unsuccessful, so that this, the best of all tropical fruits, is
never seen on our continent. Its limited geographical range is the more
remarkable, for it is frequently seen flourishing in the East Indian
islands on all kinds of soils, and there is reason to suppose that it has
been introduced into the Philippines within a comparatively late period,
for in 1685 Dampier did not notice it on Mindanao. The fruit is of a
spherical form, and a reddish-brown color. The outer part is a thick,
tough covering containing a white, opaque centre an inch or more in
diameter. This is divided into four or five parts, each of which usually
contains a small seed. This white part has a slightly-sweet taste, and
a rich yet delicate flavor, which is entirely peculiar to itself. It
tastes perhaps more like the white interior of a checkerberry than any
other fruit in our temperate climate. The thick covering is dried by the
natives and used for an astringent.
[Illustration: FRUIT MARKET.]
Several fruits claim the second place in this scale. Some Europeans would
place the _rambutan_ next the _mangostin_, and others would prefer the
mango or the _duku_. The _rambutan_ (_Nephelium lappaceum_) is nearly as
large as an apple-tree. The fruit is globular in form, and an inch or an
inch and a half in diameter. The outside is a bright-red rind, ornamented
with coarse, scattered bristles. Within is a semi-transparent pulp, of a
slightly acid taste, surrounding the seed. This tree, like the _durian_
and the _mangostin_, is wholly confined to the archipelago, and its acid
fruit is most refreshing in those hot lands. At Batavia it is so abundant
in February and March, that great quantities almost line the streets
in the market parts of the city, and small boats are seen filled to
overflowing with this bright, strawberry-colored fruit.
The mango-tree (_Mangifera indica_) is a large, thickly-branching
tree, with bright-green leaves. Its fruit is of an elliptical form,
and contains a flat stone of the same shape. Before it is ripe it is
so keenly acid, that it needs only to be preserved in salt water to
be a nice pickle for the table, especially with the universal curry.
As it ripens, the interior changes from green to white, and then to a
bright yellow. A tough outer skin being removed, there is seen a soft,
almost pulpy, but somewhat fibrous mass within. Some of these fruits are
extremely rich, and quite aromatic, while others have a sharp smack of
turpentine. They even vary greatly in two localities, which may be but
a few miles apart. Rumphius informs us that it was introduced into the
moluccas by the Dutch in 1655. It has also been introduced into Zanzibar
and Madagascar. When the Spaniards first visited the Philippines it was
not noticed, but now it is very common in those islands, and considerable
quantities of it are shipped to China, where I was frequently assured
it was very delicious; but those who have tasted this or any other
tropical fruit from only one locality are by no means competent judges.
At Singapore I found some very nice ones that had been brought down from
Siam. It also flourishes in India, and Mr. Crawfurd thinks, from the fact
that the Malay and Javanese names are evidently only corruptions of the
old Sanscrit, that it was originally brought into the archipelago from
the continent, and should not be regarded as indigenous.
The _duku_ is another highly-esteemed fruit. The tree is tall, and
bears a loose foliage. From its trunk and limbs little branchlets grow
out, bearing in long clusters the fruit, which is about the size of a
robin’s egg. The outer coating of this fruit is thin and leathery, and
of a dull-yellow color. This contains several long seeds, surrounded
by a transparent pulp, which is sweet or pleasantly acid. The seeds
themselves are intensely bitter. The natives, however, invariably prefer
the _durian_ to all other fruits. The _Durio zibethinus_ is a very large
tree. Its fruit is spherical in form, six or eight inches in diameter,
and generally covered with many sharply-pointed tubercles. This exterior
is a hard shell. Within it is divided into several parts. On breaking
the shell, a seed, as large as a chestnut, is found in each division,
surrounded by a pale-yellow substance of the consistency of thick cream,
and having an odor of putrid animal matter, so strong that a single fruit
is enough to infect the air in a large house. In the season for this
fruit the whole atmosphere in the native villages is filled with this
detestable odor. The taste of this soft, salvy, half-clotted substance
is well described by Mr. Crawfurd as like “fresh cream and filberts.” It
seems paradoxical to state that the same substance may violate a man’s
sense of smell, and yet gratify his sense of taste at the same time, but
the natives certainly are most passionately fond of it, and I once met
a foreigner who assured me that when he had once smelled this fruit he
could never be satisfied till he had eaten some of it. Its simple odor
is generally quite enough for all Europeans. It thrives well in Sumatra,
Java, the Spice Islands, and Celebes, and is found as far north as
Mindanao. On the continent forests of it exist on the Malay Peninsula,
and it is successfully raised as far north in Siam as the thirteenth or
fourteenth parallel. On the coast of the Bay of Bengal it is grown as far
north as Tenasserim, in Lat. 14° N. It flourishes well on all the kinds
of soils in this area, but all attempts have failed to introduce it into
India and also into the West Indies. Its Malay name _durian_ comes from
_duri_, a thorn, and is thus applied on account of the sharp, thorny
points of the pyramidal tubercles that cover its shell. The fact, that
the Malay name is the one used wherever the fruit is known, indicates
that it originated in a Malay country, and this view is strengthened by
the circumstance that, while I was crossing Sumatra, I passed through
large forests mostly composed of these trees in the high lands near the
sources of the Palembang River.
Another far-famed fruit is the bread-fruit. It grows on a tree, the
_Artocarpus incisa_, which attains a height of forty or fifty feet. It
will be noticed at once by the stranger, on account of its enormous,
sharply-lobed leaves, which are frequently a foot wide and a foot and
a half long. The fruit has nearly the form of a melon, and is attached
by its stem directly to the trunk or limbs. It is regarded of little
value by the Malays, but farther east, in the Society Islands, and
other parts of the South Sea, it furnishes the natives with their chief
sustenance. Just before it is ripe it is cut into slices and fried, and
eaten with a thick, black molasses, obtained by boiling down the sap of
the gomuti-palm. When prepared in this manner it tastes somewhat like a
potato, except that it is very fibrous. The seeds of this fruit in the
South Sea are said, when roasted, to be as nice as chestnuts, but I never
saw the Malays make any use of them. From the Pacific Islands it has been
introduced into the West Indies and tropical America. Another species of
this genus, the _A. integrifolia_, bears the huge “jack-fruit,” which
very closely resembles the bread-fruit. Sometimes it attains a weight of
nearly seventy-five pounds, so that one is a good load for a coolie. The
only part which the natives eat is a sweet, pulpy substance enveloping
each seed.
_June 16th._—This morning the gigantic mountain on Bali, Gunung Agung, or
“The Great Mountain,” towered up abeam of us against the southern sky.
According to Mr. Crawford it attains an elevation of twelve thousand
three hundred and seventy-nine feet, or four hundred and thirty-three
feet higher than the far-famed Peak of Teneriffe.
These mountains are only a continuation of the chain which traverses
Java, and Bali may be regarded as almost a part of Java, as it has quite
the same flora and fauna, and is only separated from that island by
a narrow strait. Here the Asiatic fauna of Sumatra, Borneo, and Java
reaches its most eastern boundary. On Lombok, the next island eastward,
a wholly different fauna is seen, having well-marked affinities with
that of Australia. According to the traditions of the Javanese, Sumatra,
Java, Bali, Lombok, and Sumbawa, were all formerly united, and afterward
separated into nine different parts, and when three thousand rainy
reasons shall have passed away they will be reunited. The dates of these
separations are given as follows:
Palembang (the eastern end of Sumatra) from Java, A. D. 1192.
Bali from Balembangan (the eastern end of Java), A. D. 1282.
Lombok from Sumbawa, A. D. 1350.
All these dates are absurdly recent, and besides, the separations, in all
probability, did not occur in the order given above. When we compare the
fauna of the continent with that of Sumatra, Java, and Borneo, we find
that Sumatra has the greatest number of species identical with those of
the Peninsula of Malacca; that Borneo has a somewhat less proportion, and
that Java has the largest number peculiar to itself. Thence we conclude
that Java was the first of these islands that was separated from the
continent, that Borneo was next detached, and Sumatra at the latest
period. Bali was probably separated from Java at a yet more recent date.
Mr. Sclater was the first to notice the fact that the dividing line
between the Asiatic fauna and that of Australia must be drawn down the
Strait of Macassar, and this observation has only been confirmed by all
who have collected in those regions since. Mr. A. R. Wallace further
ascertained that this line should be continued southward, through the
Strait of Lombok, between the island of that name and Bali. He visited
the latter island, and thus contrasts its birds with those of Lombok:
“In Bali we have barbets, fruit-thrushes, and woodpeckers; on passing
over to Lombok these are seen no more, but we have an abundance of
cockatoos, honeysuckers, and brush-turkeys (_Megapodiidæ_), which are
equally unknown in Bali, and every island farther west. The strait here
is but fifteen miles wide, so that we may pass in two hours from one
great division of the earth to another, differing as essentially in their
animal life as Europe does from America.”
The royal tiger of Sumatra and Java is also found on that part of Bali
nearest Java, but neither this nor any other feline animal exists on
Lombok.
Monkeys, squirrels, civets, and others are seen west of this dividing
line, but not east of it. Wild hogs are distributed over all the larger
islands from Sumatra to New Guinea, and even occur as far eastward as
Ceram. The flora of these islands is not divided in this manner, but
maintains quite the same character from the northern end of Timur to the
eastern end of Java.
In 1845 Mr. Earl pointed out the fact that Java, Sumatra, and Borneo, all
stand on a plateau which is only covered by a shallow sea. They therefore
not only were formerly connected, as the similarity of their faunæ shows,
but are at the present day, and a line on the map, which indicates where
the sea reaches a depth of one hundred fathoms, shows exactly where the
great basins of the Pacific and Indian Oceans really begin. Northward
this line unites the Philippines to Asia, and also proves that Formosa,
the Lew-Chew and Japanese Islands, and the Kuriles, are all parts of
the same great continent. Judging from what is known of their fauna,
Mr. Wallace thinks the separation of the Philippines from the continent
occurred before that of Java, and since that epoch they have undergone
very considerable changes in their physical geography.
In 1478, when the Hindu religion was driven out of Java, it took refuge
in Bali, where it exists to the present day. The natives here, as in
India, are divided into four castes. The first and highest includes
only the priests; the second, the soldiers; the third, the merchants;
and the fourth, and lowest, comprises the common laborers. According
to Mr. Crawford, who visited the island, the wives of the soldiers
frequently sacrifice themselves by stabbing with the _kris_, and the
body is afterward burned, and “with the princes, the sacrifice of one or
two women is indispensable.” The high mountains on Bali contain a number
of lakes or tarns, which supply many streams, and the natives are thus
enabled to irrigate their land so completely, that about twenty thousand
tons of rice are annually exported to other parts of the archipelago,
after a population of nearly three-quarters of a million is supplied.
In 1861 Java had only a population of three hundred and twenty-five to
a square mile, while Bali was supposed to have nearly five hundred, and
it is probably the most densely populated island in these seas at the
present time.
The Hindu religion also prevails over a part of Lombok. On this island a
huge mountain rises up, according to the trigonometrical measurements of
Baron van Carnbée, to a height of twelve thousand three hundred and sixty
English feet, and probably overtops every other lofty peak in the whole
archipelago.