AMBOINA.
_June 29th._—We are this morning approaching Amboina, the goal of my
long journey, and the most important of the Spice Islands. Amboina is
both the name of the island and its chief city. In form the island is
nearly elliptical, and a deep, narrow bay, fourteen miles long, almost
divides it longitudinally into two unequal parts. That on the west,
which forms the main body of the island, is called Hitu; and that on
the east Laitimur, which in Malay means “the eastern leaf.” Both are
composed of high hills which rise up so abruptly from the sea that,
though this bay for one-third of its length is nearly four miles wide,
yet it perfectly resembles a frith or broad river. Along the shores are
many little bays where praus are seen at anchor, and on the beaches are
small groves of the cocoa-nut palm, which furnish food and shade to the
natives dwelling in the rude huts beneath them. Higher up the hill-sides,
large, open areas are seen covered with a tall, coarse grass; but the
richly-cultivated fields on the flanks of the mountains in Java nowhere
appear. These grassy hill-sides are the favorite burial-places with the
Chinese, for they rarely or never carry back the bones of their friends
to the sacred soil of the Celestial Land from these islands as they do
from California. Such graves are always horseshoe-shaped, just as in
China, and their white walls make very conspicuous objects on the green
hill-sides. Above the open areas, in the wooded regions, we notice a few
places filled with small trees that have a peculiar bright-green foliage.
Those are the gardens of clove-trees which have made this island so
famous throughout the world.
It is now the rainy season here, and thick rain-clouds at first
completely enshrouded us; but as we passed up the bay they slowly broke
away, and revealed on either hand high hills and mountains, which, on
the Hitu side, began to assume a most wonderful appearance. The strong
easterly wind pushed away the thick, white clouds from the exposed
sides of all these elevations, and caused them to trail off to the west
like smoke from hundreds of railroad engines, until every separate peak
appeared to have become an active volcano that was continually pouring
out dense volumes of white, opaque gas; and as these hills rose tier
above tier to high, dark mountains which formed the background, the whole
scene was most awe-inspiring, especially in this land where eruptions and
earthquakes are frequent, and only a comparatively thin crust separates
one from the earth’s internal fires.
Near the mouth of the bay the water is very deep, but eight or nine
miles within it is sufficiently shallow for an anchorage. Here also
the hills on the east or Laitimur side are separated from the beach
by a triangular, level area, about a paal[25] long, and on this has
been built the city of “Amboina” or “Ambon,” in the native language.
Viewed from the anchorage, the city has a pleasing appearance, its
streets being broad, straight, and well shaded. About half way from its
southern end is Fort Nieuw Victoria. Landing at a quay we passed through
this old stronghold out into a pretty lawn, which is surrounded by the
Societeit, or Club-House, and the residences of officials and merchants.
The total population of the city is about fourteen thousand. Of these,
seven hundred are Europeans, three hundred Chinese, and four hundred
Arabs. The others are natives. The entire population of the island is
about thirty-two thousand. Like all the cities and larger settlements
in the Dutch possessions, Amboina is divided into a native _kampong_ or
quarter, a Chinese _kampong_, and a quarter where foreigners reside.
The natives are directly under the control of a rajah or prince, and
he, in turn, is responsible to a Dutch assistant resident. In a similar
manner the Chinese are subject to a “Captain China,” who, in the larger
cities, has one or more assistants or “lieutenants.” He, likewise, must
report himself to the assistant resident. In this way each separate
people is immediately ruled by officers chosen from its own nation, and
consequently of the same views and prejudices. Justice is thus more
perfectly administered, and the hostile feelings which each of these
bigoted Eastern nations always entertains against every other are thus
completely avoided.
On leaving Batavia, Cores de Vries & Co., who then owned all the
mail-steamers in the Netherlands India, kindly gave me a letter of credit
so that I might draw on their agents from place to place, and wholly
avoid the trouble and danger of carrying any considerable sum with me.
This letter further recommended me to the kind attention of all their
employés, and Mr. Var Marle, their agent at this place, at once said
that I must make his house my home while I remained in that part of the
archipelago; and this unexpected and very generous invitation was still
more acceptable, as both he and his good lady spoke English. A chamber
was assigned me, and a large room in an adjoining out-building, where I
could store my collections and pack them up for their long transit to
America; and thus I was ready to commence my allotted work without the
least delay. I then called on His Excellency the Governor of the Spice
Islands, who received me in the most cordial manner, and said that boats,
coolies, and whatever other assistance I might need, would be immediately
ordered whenever I wished.
Amboina has long been famous for its shells, and the Dutch officials
have been accustomed for years to purchase very considerable quantities
as presents for their friends in Europe. The natives, therefore, are in
the habit of gathering them for sale, and a few have become extensive
traders in these beautiful objects. It was soon noised abroad that a
foreigner had come from a land even farther away than “Ollanda,” as
they call Holland, solely for the purpose of purchasing shells; and
immediately, to my great delight, basketful after basketful of the
species that I had always regarded as the rarest and most valuable began
to appear, every native being anxious to dispose of his lot before his
fellows, and thus obtain a share of the envied shining coin, which I
was careful to display to their gloating eyes before I should say I had
bought all I desired. Competition, here as elsewhere, had a wonderfully
depressing effect on the price of their commodities, judging from what
they asked at first and what they were finally willing to take. The
trade, however, became more brisk day after day, and some natives came
from long distances partly to sell their shells and partly to see whether
“that man” could be sane who had come so far and was spending, according
to their ideas, so much money for shells. At first I bought them by the
basketful, until all the more common species had been obtained, and then
I showed the natives the figures in Rumphius’s “Rariteit Kamer” of those
species I still wished to secure, and at the same time offered them an
extra price for others not represented in that comprehensive work. One
species I was particularly anxious to secure alive. It was the pearly
nautilus. The shell has always been common, but the animal has seldom
been described. The first was found at this place, and a description
and drawing were given by Rumphius. Afterward a dissection and drawing
were given by Professor Owen, of the British Museum, and his monograph
probably contains the most complete anatomical description that has ever
been made of any animal from a single specimen. He worked, as he himself
described it to me, with a dissecting-knife in one hand and a pencil
in the other. So little escaped his pen and pencil, that very little
information has been added by later dissections. I was so anxious to
secure one of these rare animals, that I felt that, if I should obtain
one and a few more common species, I could feel that my long journey had
been far from fruitless. Only the second day after my arrival, to my
inexpressible delight, a native brought me one still _living_. Seeing
how highly I prized it, he began by asking ten guilders (four Mexican
dollars) for it, but finally concluded to part with it for two guilders
(less than one Mexican dollar), though I should certainly have paid him
fifty if I could not have obtained it for a less price. It had been taken
in this way: the natives throughout the archipelago rarely fish with
a hook and line as we do, but, where the water is too deep to build a
weir, they use instead a _bubu_, or barrel of open basket-work of bamboo.
Each end of this barrel is an inverted cone, with a small opening at its
apex. Pieces of fish and other bait are suspended from within, and the
_bubu_ is then sunk on the clear patches of sand on a coral reef, or
more commonly out where the water is from twenty to fifty fathoms deep.
No line is attached to those on the reefs, but they are taken up with a
gaff. Those in deep water are buoyed by a cord and a long bamboo, to one
end of which a stick is fastened in a vertical position, and to this is
attached a piece of palm-leaf for a flag, to make it more conspicuous.
In this case it happened that one of these _bubus_ was washed off into
deeper water than usual, and the nautilus chanced to crawl through the
opening in one of the cones to get at the bait within. If the opening
had not been much larger than usual, it could not possibly have got in.
It was at once placed in a can containing strong arrack. I then offered
twice as much for a duplicate specimen, and hundreds of natives tried
and tried, but in vain, to procure another during the five months I was
in those seas. They are so rare even there, that a gentleman, who had
made large collections of shells, assured me that I ought not to expect
to obtain another if I were to remain at Amboina three years. Rumphius,
who usually is remarkably accurate in his descriptions of the habits of
the mollusks he figures, says it sometimes swims on the sea; but this
statement he probably received from the natives, who made such a mistake
because many empty shells are frequently found floating on the ocean.
When the animal dies and becomes separated from the shell, the latter
rises to the surface of the sea on account of the air or other gas
contained in the chambers. It is then swept away by the wind and tide to
the shore of a neighboring island. When the natives are questioned as to
where these shells come from, they invariably reply, “The sea;” and as to
where the animal lives, they merely answer, “_Dalam_,” “In the deep.” The
dead shells are so abundant on these islands, that they can be purchased
in any quantity at from four to ten cents apiece.
My first excursion from the city of Amboina was with a gentleman to a
large cocoa-garden, which he had lately planted on the high hills on the
Hitu side. A nice boat or _orangbai_—literally, “a good fellow”—took us
over the bay to the little village of Ruma Tiga, or “Three Houses.”
The boatmen were gayly dressed in white trousers with red trimmings,
and had red handkerchiefs tied round their heads. A small gong and a
_tifa_ or drum, made by tightly stretching a piece of the hide of a
wild deer over the end of a short, hollow log, gave forth a rude, wild
music, and at least served to aid the boatmen in keeping time as they
rowed. Occasionally, to break the monotony of their labor, they sang a
low, plaintive song. Instead of steering straight for the point which
we wished to arrive at on the opposite side of the bay, our helmsman
kept the boat so near the shore that we really passed round the head of
the bay, twice as far as it would have been in a right line. This mode
of _hassar_ steering, or, as the sailors express it in our language,
“hugging the shore,” I afterward found was the one universally adopted
in all this part of the archipelago. When we landed, I had the pleasure
to find, just beneath low-water level, hundreds of black sea-urchins,
with needle-like spines nearly a foot long, and so extremely sharp and
brittle, that it was very difficult to get the animals out of the little
cavities in the rocks where they had anchored themselves fast with their
many suckers. Near by, the villagers were busy boiling down the sap of
the sagaru-palm for the sugar it contains. According to my taste it is
much like maple-sugar. Up to the time that Europeans first came to the
East, this was the only kind of sugar known to the natives, and large
quantities of it are still consumed among the islands here in the eastern
part of the archipelago.
From the beach, a narrow footpath led through a grove of palm-trees into
a thick forest, and then zigzagged up a steep hill-side, until it reached
a small plateau. Here were the young cocoa-trees, filled with their long,
red, cucumber-like fruit. The original forest had been felled and burned,
and these trees had been planted in its place. Almost the only difficulty
in cultivating the cocoa-tree here is in removing the grass and small
shrubs which are continually springing up; yet the natives are all so
idle and untrustworthy that a gentleman must frequently inspect his
garden himself, if he expects it to yield a fair return. This tree,[26]
the _Theobroma cacao_, Lin., is not a native of the East. It was
discovered by the Spaniards in Mexico during the conquest of that country
by Cortez. From Mexico they took it to their provinces in South America
and the West India Islands. At present it is cultivated in Trinidad, and
in Guiana and Brazil. It probably thrives as well here as in Mexico, and
is now completely supplanting the less profitable clove-tree.
The chief article of food of the natives working in this garden is our
own yellow Indian corn, another exotic, also introduced into the East
by Europeans. It is now raised in every part of the archipelago in such
quantities as to form one of the chief articles of food for the natives.
The Dutch never use it, and generally think it strange that it should
be made into bread for the very nicest tables in our land. I never knew
the natives to grind it or pound it. They are accustomed to roast it on
the ear after the kernels have become quite hard and yellow. Our house
in this tropical garden was merely a bamboo hut, with a broad veranda,
which afforded us an ample shelter from the pouring rains and scorching
sunshine. I had been careful to take along my fowling-piece, and at once
I commenced a rambling hunt through the adjoining forest. Large flocks
of small birds, much like our blackbird, were hovering about, but they
so invariably chose to alight only on the tops of the tallest trees,
that I was a long time securing half a dozen specimens, for at every
shot they would select another distant tree-top, and give me a long walk
over tangled roots and fallen trees in the dense, almost gloomy, jungle.
As evening came on, small green parrots uttered their shrill, deafening
screams, as they darted to and fro through the thick foliage. A few of
these also entered my game-bag.
In these tropical lands, when the sun sets, it is high time for the
hunter to forsake his fascinating sport and hurry home. There is no
long, fading twilight, but darkness presses closely on the footsteps of
retreating day, and at once it is night. On my return, my friend remarked
in the coolest manner that I had secured us both a good supper; and
before I had recovered from my shock at such a suggestion, the cook had
torn out a large handful of rich feathers from the skins, and all were
spoiled for my collection; however, I consoled myself with the thought
that it did not fall to the good lot of every hunter to live in the midst
of such a wondrous vegetation and feast on parrots. In the evening, a
full moon shed broad oscillating bands of silver light through the large
polished leaves of the bananas around our dwelling, as they slowly waved
to and fro in the cool, refreshing breeze. Then the low cooing of doves
came up out of the dark forest, and the tree-toads piped out their long,
shrill notes. That universal pest, the mosquito, was also there, singing
his same bloodthirsty tune in our ears. Our beds were perched on poles,
high above the floor of the hut, that we might avoid such unpleasant
bedfellows as large snakes, which are very common and most unceremonious
visitors. That night we were disturbed but once, and then by a loud
rattling of iron pots and a general crashing of crockery; instantly I
awoke with an indefinite apprehension that we were experiencing one of
the frightful earthquakes which my friend had been vividly picturing
before we retired. The natives set up a loud hooting and shouting, and
finally the cause of the whole disturbance was found to be a lean, hungry
dog that was attempting to satisfy his appetite on what remained of our
parrot-stew.
My chief object on this excursion was to collect insects; and among some
white-leaved shrubs, near the shore, I found many magnificent specimens
of a very large, richly-colored _Papilio_. The general color of the upper
surface of its wings was a blue-black, and beneath were large patches of
bright red. Another was a blue-black above, with large spots of bright
blue. The wings of these butterflies expand five or six inches, and they
seem almost like small birds as they flit by.
It was my desire not only to obtain the same shells that Rumphius
figures, but to procure them from the same points and bays, so that there
could be no doubt about the identity of my specimens with his drawings.
I therefore proposed to travel along all the shores of Amboina and the
neighboring islands, and trade with the natives of every village, so as
to be sure of the localities myself, and, moreover, get specimens of
all the species alive, and thus have ample material for studying their
anatomy. I now realized the value of the letter with which His Excellency
the Governor-General had honored me at Batavia. I had only to apply to
the assistant resident, and he at once kindly ordered a boat and coolies
for me at the same rate as if they were employed by the government, which
was frequently less than half of what I should have been obliged to pay
if I had hired them myself; and besides, many times I could not have
obtained boats nor coolies at any price; and when the Resident ordered
them to come at a certain hour, I always found them ready.
My first excursion along the shores of the island was on the north
coast of Hitu. Two servants accompanied me, to aid in arranging the
shells, and carrying bottles of alcohol to contain the animals. From
the city of Amboina, a boat took us over the bay to Ruma Tiga, where
several coolies were waiting with a “chair” to carry me over the high
hills to the opposite shore. This “chair,” or palanquin, is merely a
common arm-chair, with a bamboo fastened on each side. A light roof
and curtains on the sides keep out the rain or hot sunshine. Usually
eight or more coolies are detailed to each chair, so that one-half may
relieve the others every few moments. The motion is much like that on
horseback, when the horse is urged into a hurried walk, and is neither
extremely unpleasant nor so very delightful as some writers who have
visited these islands have described it. In China, where only two coolies
carry a chair, the motion is far more regular and agreeable. This is the
only mode of travelling in all the islands where horses have not been
introduced, and where all the so-called roads are mere narrow footpaths,
except in the villages.
From the shore we climbed two hills, and on their crests passed through
gardens of cocoa-trees.[27] The road then was bordered on either side
with rows of pine-apples, _Ananassa sativa_, a third exotic from tropical
America. It thrives so well in every part of the archipelago, without
the slightest care, that it is very difficult to realize that it is not
an indigenous plant. The native names all point out its origin. The
Malays and Javanese call it _nanas_, which is merely a corruption of the
Portuguese _ananassa_. In Celebes it is sometimes called _pandang_, a
corruption of _pandanus_, from the marked similarity of the two fruits.
In the Philippines it is generally called _piña_, the Spanish word for
pine-cone, which has the same origin as our name pine-apple. Piña is
also the name of a cloth of great strength and durability, made by the
natives of the Philippines, from the fibres of its leaves. The Malays,
on the contrary, seldom or never make any such use of it, though it
grows so abundantly in many places that any quantity of its leaves could
be obtained for the simple trouble of gathering them. The fruit raised
here is generally regarded as inferior to that grown in the West Indies,
and the Dutch consider the variety known as “the West Indian ananas,”
that is, one that has been recently introduced, as the best. The finest
specimens of this fruit are raised in the interior of Sumatra and on the
islands about Singapore, and great quantities are exposed for sale in the
market at that city.
From the crest of the first range of hills we descended to a deep ravine,
and crossed a bridge thrown over a foaming torrent. This bridge, like
most the Dutch possessions, was covered with a roof, but left open on the
sides. The object of the roof and its projecting eaves is to keep the
boards and planks beneath dry, for whenever they are frequently soaked
with rain they quickly decay in this tropical climate. The coolies here
lunched on smoked fish and sago-cake, their common fare, and quenched
their thirst with draughts from the rapid stream. Their ragged clothing
and uncombed hair made them appear strangely out of keeping with the
luxuriant vegetation surrounding us. Crossing another high range, we
caught a view of the blue ocean, and soon descended to the village of
Hitu-lama, “Old Hitu.” The rajah received me most kindly into his house,
and assigned me a chamber. Large numbers of children quickly gathered,
and the rajah explained to them that I had come to buy shells, insects,
and every curious thing they might bring. As it was high water, and
good shells could only be found at low tide, I asked them to search
for lizards, and soon I was surprised to see them coming with a number
of real “flying-dragons,” not such impossible monsters as the Chinese
delight to place on their temples and vases, but small lizards, _Draco
volans_, each provided with a broad fold in the skin along either side
of the body, analogous to that of our flying-squirrel, and for a similar
purpose, not really for flying, but to act as a parachute to sustain
the animal in the air, while it makes long leaps from branch to branch.
Another lizard, of which they brought nearly a dozen specimens in a
couple of hours, had a body about six inches long and a tail nearly as
much longer. Knowing how impossible it is to capture these agile and wary
animals, I tried to ascertain how they succeeded in surprising so many,
but they all refused to tell, apparently from superstitious motives, and
to this day the mystery is unsolved. When these specimens were brought to
me they were always in small joints of bamboo, and when one escaped the
natives generally refused to try to catch it in their hands.
As the tide receded, shells began to come in; at first the more common
species, and rarer ones as the ebbing ceased. My mode of trading with
these people was extremely simple, my stock of Malay being very limited.
A small table was placed on the veranda in front of the rajah’s house,
and I took a seat behind it. The natives then severally came up and
placed their shells in a row on the table, and I placed opposite each
shell or each lot of shells whatever I was willing to give for them, and
then, pointing first to the money and then to the shells, remarked, _Ini
atau itu_, “This or that,” leaving them to make their own choice. In
this way all disputing was avoided, and the purchasing went on rapidly.
Whenever one man had a rare shell, and the sum I offered did not meet
his expectations, another would be sure to accept it if no more was
given; then the first would change his mind, and thus I never failed to
obtain both specimens. It was a pleasure that no one but a naturalist
can appreciate, to see such rare and beautiful shells coming in alive,
spotted cypræas, marbled cones, long _Fusi_, and _Murices_, some spiny
and some richly ornamented with varices resembling compound leaves. The
rarest shell that I secured that day was a living _Terebellum_, which
was picked up on a coral reef before the village, at low-tide level.
Afterward I procured another from the same place; but so limited does its
distribution appear to be, that I never obtained a live specimen at any
other locality.
At sunset I walked out with the rajah along the shore of the bay. Before
us lay the great island of Ceram, which the rajah called, in his musical
tongue, _Ceram tana biza_, “The great land of Ceram,” for indeed, to him,
it was a land, that is, a continent, and not in any sense a _pulo_ or
island. The departing sun was sinking behind the high, jagged peaks of
Ceram, and his last golden and purple rays seemed to waver as they shot
over the glassy but gently-undulating surface of the bay, and the broad,
deeply-fringed leaves of the cocoa-nut palms on the beach took a deeper
and richer hue in the glowing sunlight. Then a dull, heavy booming came
out of a small Mohammedan mosque, which was picturesquely placed on a
little projecting point, almost surrounded by the purple sea. This was
the low rolling of a heavy drum, calling all the faithful to assemble and
return thanks to their Prophet at the close of the departing day. The
rajah then left me to wander along the shore alone, and enjoy the endless
variety of the changing tints in the sea and sky while the daylight faded
away along the western horizon.
It was in this bay that the Dutch first cast anchor in these seas, and
this thought naturally carries us back to the early history of the
Moluccas, so famous for their spices, and so coveted by almost every
nation of Europe, as soon as enterprise and action began to dispel
the dark clouds of ignorance and superstition which had enveloped the
whole of the so-called civilized world during the middle ages. Antonio
d’Abreu, a Portuguese captain, who came here from Malacca, in 1511, is
generally regarded as the discoverer of Amboina and Banda, but Ludovico
Barthema (Vartoma), of Bologna, after visiting Malacca and Pedir, in
Sumatra, according to his own account, reached this island as early as
1506, yet his description of the Moluccas is so faulty that Valentyn
thinks he never came to this region, but obtained his information from
the Javanese and Arabs, who, as early at least as 1322, visited these
islands to purchase spices.[28] The Dutch first came to the East in the
employment of the Portuguese, and in this manner became acquainted with
its geography and its wealth. Their earliest expedition sailed from
Holland in 1594, under Houtman. His fleet first visited Bantam and the
island of Madura. At the latter place the natives seized some of his
crew, and obliged him to pay two thousand rix dollars to ransom them.
On the 3d of March, 1599, he arrived here off Hitu-lama. A serious and
continual warfare then began between the Spanish, the Portuguese, and the
Dutch, for the possession of the Moluccas, which lasted until 1610, when
the Dutch became masters of these seas, and monopolized the lucrative
trade of the nutmeg and the clove. The English also tried to secure this
valuable prize, but the Dutch finally compelled them to leave this part
of the archipelago, and have continued to hold it, except for a short
time in the early part of the present century.
The guest-chamber of my host, the rajah, was so open at the eaves that a
current of damp air blew over me all night, and I had a strong reminder
of the Batavia fever the next day. However, I continued along the shore
to Hila, where an assistant resident is stationed, whose district also
includes a part of the neighboring coast of Ceram. In the days when the
clove-tree was extensively cultivated in Amboina, this was an important
place, but now it has become almost deserted. It is chiefly famous for
its fine mangoes, the fruit of the _Mangifera Indica_.
The Resident here had two fine specimens of an enormous hermit crab, the
_Birgos latro_. The habits of this animal are most remarkable. Its food
is the cocoa-nut, and, as the ripe nuts fall from the tree, it tears off
the dry husks with its powerful claws until the end of the shell where
the three black scars are found is laid bare. It then breaks the shell
by hammering with one of its heavy claws, and the oily, fattening food
within is obtained by means of the pincer-like claws attached to its
hinder joints—so perfectly is this animal adapted to its peculiar mode of
life. They are esteemed great delicacies after they have been well fed
for a time, and these two unfortunates were destined for the table.
A rest of a couple of days stayed the fever, and a boat was ordered to
take me to Zyt, the next village, where I reaped another rich harvest of
beautiful shells. Here I purchased many _Tritons_, which the natives
had brought over from the neighboring coast of Ceram. They are quite
similar to the _Tritons_ of the Mediterranean, which in mythological
times were fancied to be the trumpets used by Neptune’s attendants to
herald the approach of the grim god, when he came up from the depths of
the ocean, and was whirled by foaming steeds over its placid surface. The
next village we visited was completely deserted, except by the rajah and
his family. The cause of this strange exodus was some misunderstanding
between the rajah and his people; and as the Dutch Government claims
the right to appoint each native prince, and had refused to remove this
rajah, all his people had deserted their homes and moved off to the
various neighboring _kampongs_, a quiet and probably an effective mode
of remonstrance. Near all these villages the beaches are lined with
cocoa-nut palms, and this is frequently the only indication that you are
approaching a _kampong_, unless, as occasionally happens, a thin column
of smoke is observed slowly rising from out the tall tree-tops. When I
wished to take water with me in our canoe, I naturally asked the rajah if
he could provide us with a bottle, but he only smiled to think I could be
so unaccustomed to tropical life, and ordered a servant to climb one of
the cocoa-nut palms above us, and cut off some of its clusters of large
green fruit. These we could carry anywhere, and open when we pleased, and
a few strokes with a heavy cleaver at once furnished us with a sparkling
fountain.
At Assilulu, the next village, I found the rajah living in such style
as I had always fancied a rich Eastern prince enjoyed. His house was
in the centre of a large village, and located on the side of a steep
hill. It covered three large terraces, and, when viewed from the landing
below, appeared like a temple. At this place, besides many rare shells,
I purchased several large cassowary-eggs, which had been brought over
from Ceram. They are about as long as ostrich-eggs, but somewhat less in
diameter, and of a green color. The bird itself belongs to the ostrich
family, its feathers being imperfectly developed and separate from each
other, and suitable only to aid it to run. One species has a spine on
each wing to enable it to defend itself, but the usual mode of attack is
by striking with the beak. In size it is twice as large as a full-grown
turkey. It is not found wild on any island west of Ceram, and those
reported from Java were all undoubtedly carried there from this part
of the archipelago. Here also I bought of the rajah a number of superb
skulls of the babirusa, _Babirusa alfurus_, literally “the hog-deer,”
a name well chosen, for its long tusks would at once suggest to these
natives the antlers of the deer, the only other wild animal of any
considerable size found on these islands. These skulls came from Buru,
the eastern limit of this remarkable species of hog.
For some time one of my servants kept alluding to several wonderful and
most valuable curiosities which this wealthy rajah was so fortunate as
to possess—curiosities indeed, according to his glowing descriptions,
compared to the shells I was continually buying. At last I asked him to
say to the rajah, that I would be greatly obliged to him if he could
show me such rare wonders, being careful not to add, that possibly
I should like to purchase one or more; for I had a strong suspicion
that the rajah had offered to give him all over a certain sum that I
might pay for them, if he could induce me to purchase them. In these
Eastern lands, when you send a servant to buy any thing, you have the
unpleasant certainty in your mind, that a large part of “the price” will
certainly lodge in his pocket; however, if you go to purchase yourself,
such exorbitant prices will be demanded, that you will either come away
without the article you need, or have the unpleasant reflection afterward
that you have been cheated worse than if you had sent your servant and
allowed him to levy his blackmail.
As I had anticipated, the rajah was not loath to show me his treasures.
They were merely half a dozen glass rings, evidently made by cutting
off a piece of a glass rod nine or ten inches long, and half an inch in
diameter. This piece, having been heated, was bent into a ring and the
two ends united by fusion. Instead of expressing surprise and delight,
as all who were looking on seemed to expect, I coolly began explaining
to the rajah what they were and how they were made. A look of surprise
and incredulity appeared on the faces of all, and the rajah at once,
in a most solemn manner, averred that so far from their being the work
of man, they had been taken out of the heads of snakes and wild boars!
Despite the dignified bearing the occasion was supposed to demand, I
could not refrain from a smile as I remarked that I had seen many
heads of those animals myself, but never before had I heard that they
carried such circular jewels in their brains. “Have you ever seen one
of these taken out yourself?” I asked. “Oh, no! They come from _Tana
Ceram_ (the land or continent of Ceram).” All who were listening, now
fearing that their rajah might be worsted in the discussion, and being
ready on every occasion to show that they were loyal subjects, abruptly
ended the argument by the unqualified assertion that every thing was
exactly as the rajah had said; and, as I was his guest, I changed the
conversation to another topic. When I returned to the city of Amboina,
I looked at once in the “Rariteit Kamer,” confident that Rumphius would
explain this remarkable and, as I afterward found, common belief; for,
though the rajah probably did not believe what he said, his credulous
subjects doubtless never thought before of calling in question such
a generally-accepted notion; such a query would, in their view, have
indicated a weak instead of an inquiring mind. This is one of the
obstacles in the way of advancement among these people. Rumphius says
that many rings were brought by the Portuguese and sold to the natives,
who prize them very highly. This accounted for their origin; and
afterward, when I came to travel over the empire of China, and noticed
how that people value similar rings of jade (nephrite), and remembered
that the coast of Ceram, opposite Assilulu, was once frequented by
the people of that empire, who came to purchase cloves and nutmegs,
it occurred to me that possibly it was from them that the Amboinese
had learned to place so high a value on such simple objects, and had
obtained their first specimens. Java is perhaps the only island in the
archipelago where such ornaments could have been made by the natives, but
I do not find that they are especially prized there, or that they have
been dug up with other relics of previous ages.
Off this coast lie three islands, the Three Brothers, and on their
shores the natives found a number of rare shells. In the streets of the
village considerable quantities of cloves that had been gathered on
the neighboring hill-sides were exposed to the sun on mats between the
frequent showers, but the culture of that spice has been so neglected of
late years, that this was the only place where I saw the fruit in all
the Moluccas. The clove-tree (_Carophyllus aromaticus_) belongs to the
order of myrtles, which also includes the pomegranate, the guava, and
the rose-apple. The trunk of the full-grown tree is from eight to twelve
inches in diameter, and occasionally much more. Its topmost branches
are usually forty or fifty feet from the ground, though I have seen
a tree not larger than a cherry-tree fully loaded with fruit. It was
originally confined to the five islands off the west coast of Gilolo,
which then comprised the whole group known as “the Moluccas,” a name
that has since been extended to Buru, Amboina, and the other islands
off the south coast of Ceram, where the clove has been introduced and
cultivated within a comparatively late period. On those five islands it
begins to bear in its seventh or eighth year, and sometimes continues
to yield until it has reached an age of nearly one hundred and fifty
years; the trees, therefore, are of very different sizes. Here at Amboina
it is not expected to bear fruit before its twelfth or fifteenth year,
and to cease yielding when it is seventy-five years old. Its limited
distribution has always attracted attention, and Rumphius, who describes
it as “the most beautiful, the most elegant, and the most precious of
all known trees,” remarks: “Hence it appears that the Great Disposer of
things in His wisdom, allotting His gifts to the several regions of the
world, placed cloves in the kingdom of the Moluccas, beyond which, by no
human industry, can they be propagated or perfectly cultivated.” In the
last observation, however, he was mistaken, for since his time it has
been successfully introduced into the island of Penang, in the Strait
of Malacca, and Sumatra, Bourbon, Zanzibar, and the coast of Guiana
and the West India Islands. The clove is the flower-bud, and grows in
clusters at the ends of the twigs. The annual yield of a good tree is
about four pounds and a half, and the yearly crop on Amboina, Haruku,
Saparua, and Nusalaut, the only islands where the tree is now cultivated,
is 350,000 Amsterdam pounds.[29] It is, however, extremely variable and
uncertain—for example, in 1846 it was 869,727 Amsterdam pounds, but in
1849 it was only 89,923, or little more than one-tenth of what it was
three years before. Pigafetta informs us that, when the Spanish first
came to the Moluccas, there were no restrictions on the culture or sale
of the clove. The annual crop at that time, 1521, according to the same
authority, reached the enormous quantity of 6,000 bahars, 3,540,000
pounds of “uncleaned,” and 4,000 bahars, 2,360,000 pounds of “cleaned”
cloves, about seventeen times the quantity obtained at the present time.
Though this statement at first appears incredible, it is strengthened
by the fact that the two ships of Magellan’s fleet that reached Tidore,
one of the Spice Islands, were filled with cloves during a stay of
only twenty-four days. When the buds are young they are nearly white,
afterward they change to a light green, and finally to a bright red, when
they must at once be gathered, which is done by picking them by hand,
or beating them off with bamboos on to cloths spread beneath the trees.
They are then simply dried in the sun, and are ready for the market.
In drying, their color is changed from red to black, the condition in
which we see them. They are gathered twice a year, at about this time,
in June, and again in the last of December. The leaves, bark, and young
twigs also have some peculiar aroma, and at Zanzibar the stems of the
buds are also gathered and find a ready sale. The favorite locations
of this tree are the high hill-sides, and it is said that it does not
thrive well on low lands, where the loam is fine and heavy. The soil
best adapted to it appears to be a loose, sandy loam. In its original
_habitat_ it grows chiefly on volcanic soil, but in Amboina and the other
islands, where it is now cultivated, it has been found to flourish well
on loams formed by the disintegration of recent sandstone and secondary
rocks. The native name for this fruit is _chenki_, perhaps a corruption
of the Chinese _tkeng-ki_, “odoriferous nails.”[30] The Dutch name for
clove is _kruid-nagel_, “herb-nail,” and for the trees _nagelen-boomen_,
“nail-trees.” Our own name clove comes from the Spanish _clavo_ (Latin
_clavus_), a nail, which has also been given them on account of the
similarity of these buds to nails.
Although cloves form a favorite condiment among all nations, the
natives of these islands where they grow never eat them in any form,
and we have no reason to suppose they ever did. The only purpose for
which the Amboinese use them, so far as I am aware, is to prepare neat
models of their praus and bamboo huts, by running small wire through
the buds before they are dried. The Dutch purchase and send to Europe
so many of these models, that almost every ethnological museum contains
some specimens of this skilful workmanship. The clove probably came
into use originally by accident, and I believe the first people who
fancied its rich aroma, and warm, pungent taste, were the Chinese. The
similarity of the native name to that of the Chinese, and its marked
difference, according to De Cauto, from that of the Brahmins or Hindus,
lends probability to this view. When the Portuguese first came to these
islands, the Chinese, Arabs, Malays, Javanese, and Macassars, were all
found here trading in this article. Of the two former nations, the
Chinese were probably the first to reach this region, though the Arabs
sailed up the China Sea and carried on a large trade with the Chinese at
Canpu, a port in Hangchau Bay, south of the present city of Shanghai, in
the thirteenth century, or fully two hundred years before the Portuguese
and Spaniards arrived in these seas.
The first notice of cloves in Europe occurs in a law passed during the
reign of Aurelian the First, between A. D. 175 and 180, where they are
mentioned as forming an article of commerce from India to Alexandria;
for the Isthmus of Suez and the Red Sea formed at that time the chief
highway of Eastern trade. From these islands the cloves were first taken
by the Malays and Javanese to the peninsula of Malacca, where they passed
into the hands of the Telingas or Klings, who carried them to Calicut,
the old Capital of Malabar. Thence they were transported to the western
shores of India and shipped across the Arabian Sea, and up the Gulf of
Aden and the Red Sea to Cairo. These frequent transfers so increased the
original price, that in England, before the discovery of the Cape of Good
Hope, thirty shillings were paid for them per pound, or one hundred and
sixty-eight pounds sterling per hundred-weight, which was three hundred
and sixty times their original price. It was to make this immense profit
that the Portuguese, the Spaniards, the Dutch, and the English, were all
so anxious to find a passage to the East by sea, and why, when these
islands had been discovered, each strove to monopolize the trade itself,
and all carried on such a persistent and piratical warfare for many
years. So long as cloves were not cultivated elsewhere, and there was no
competition in the European markets, the Dutch Government made a handsome
profit by means of its monopoly; but when they were raised in other
places, the consumption of such a luxury not increasing with the supply,
the previous high price began at once to decline, and for many years
the income of the government in these islands has not been equal to its
expenses in the same region. Some have supposed that a further reduction
in the price would be followed with a corresponding greater demand, until
its consumption would become as general and as large as that of pepper;
but this view is opposed by the common decision of mankind—that pepper
is a necessary article of food, and that the clove is only a luxury.
If no attempt had been made to keep up the price of this commodity to
such a high figure in the European markets, there would have been a less
incentive to other nations to introduce it into their own colonies, and
thus the market would not have been overstocked so soon, and the price
would not have fallen so low as to make the Spice Islands a source of
loss instead of profit, except within a recent date.
All the rajahs I met were strict Mohammedans, and, improving the
privileges of their sect, had more than one wife. Soon after arriving at
each rajah’s house, I was invariably asked whether or not I was married,
and for a long time I could not imagine why I was so closely quizzed,
until the proverbial jealousy of these people occurred to me. Each
wished to know how strict a watch he was to keep over his fascinating
harem; and as I was obliged to answer all such queries in the negative,
I never even saw one of their wives. At meals only the rajah and myself
sat at the table; and as I had two servants, and each of these princes
nearly a score, we were always well served, considering our fare. Two
articles never failed to appear—chickens and rice—and to these fish was
usually added; and for luncheon and dessert always the richest bananas.
One kind, the _pisang Ambon_, or “Amboina banana,” is very common in
that region, but the one I soon learned to prefer, and the one that my
servants were always ordered to procure if possible, wherever we chanced
to halt, was the _pisang mas_, or “golden banana,” a small variety, with
a peculiarly rich, honey-like flavor, and a bright golden skin when it
is fully ripe. This rajah, I noticed, was particular to seat me at the
table so that I could only look out at the front door. The first query
he proposed at dinner was, how we are accustomed to eat in our land,
adding that, after all, no style suited him so well as dispensing with
knives and forks altogether, and adopting the simpler and more natural
mode of using one’s fingers—a style so common, that each rajah usually
keeps a supply of finger-bowls, and frequently these are worth more
than all the crockery and other glassware on the table beside. While I
was most zealously explaining in reply the superiority of our custom,
there arose a suppressed giggle behind me; the secret was out—the rajah’s
wives had been allowed to leave their close prison and look at me, while
I was so placed that I could not, without the greatest rudeness, turn
round so as to steal a glance at them. But as this noise was evidently
not a part of the proposed programme, I repressed my curiosity, and
continued my description. One topic especially they never seemed weary
of hearing about, and that was my experience as a soldier. There was
something strangely fascinating to their rude imaginations in the
scenes of blood through which I have had to pass. At first I had some
difficulty in translating my stories into good Malay, but one of my
servants fortunately spoke a little Dutch, and supplied me with a word or
sentence, as the case demanded.
From Assilulu I set off, during a heavy rain-storm, over a neighboring
mountain for the southwest shore, and after a long walk over the rocks,
sand, and shingle, we reached Lariki, where there was once a fort with a
garrison, but now the ruins of the fort, and a few old, rusty guns are
all that remain; and the only official stationed there is an _opziener_
or “overseer.” In two days, at that place, I so increased my collection,
that I had to hire eight coolies to transport it, each carrying two
baskets—one on either end of a pole about four feet long. The baskets are
made of an open framework of bamboo, covered inside with palm-leaves, and
are therefore very light and durable. The most common shell there is the
little _cypræa caput-serpentis_, or “serpent’s-head cowry,” which has a
close resemblance, both in form and color, to the head of a snake.
From Lariki the opziener accompanied me to the neighboring _kampong_
of Wakasihu. Our narrow footpath wound along the side of a rugged,
projecting crag, and the view from the outer point was very imposing. The
stormy monsoon was at its height. The heavy swell rolling in from the
open ocean broke and flung its white spray and clotted foam far and wide
over the black rocks left bare by the ebbing tide. Thick clouds, heavily
freighted with rain, were driven by the strong wind against the rugged
coast and adjoining mountains. The cocoa-nut palms that grew just above
high-water level, and leaned over toward the sea, twisted and shook their
plumy crests in a continual strife with the angry storm, and above them
the branches of great evergreens moaned and piped as they lashed to and
fro in the fitful gusts of the tempests.
At Wakasihu the old white-bearded rajah, hearing of our approach, came
out to welcome us. The opziener explained to him the object of my coming,
and immediately he ordered a large _tifa_, that hung under an adjoining
shed, to be beaten, as a warning to his people that their rajah required
them all to assemble at once before his house. The news quickly spread
that a foreigner had come to purchase shells, and the old men, young
men, women, and children all came with the treasures that had been
accumulating for months, and even years, in their miserable dwellings.
Here many perfect specimens of the richly-colored _Cassis flammea_
appeared, and also that strangely-marked shell, the _Cypræa mappa_, or
“map cowry,” so named from the irregular light-colored line over its back
where the two edges of the mantle meet when the animal is fully expanded.
They had crawled into the _bubus_ that had been sunk for fish at a depth
of several fathoms.
The trading was carried on only in Malay, but when I offered a price,
which was higher or lower than they had expected, they frequently
consulted with each other in their own peculiar dialect or _bahasa_.
This the opziener, who was a native of the city of Amboina, was as
totally unable to understand as I. He also assured me that even the
natives at Lariki, from which we had walked in half an hour, could only
understand an occasional word of the _bahasa_ of this village, and that
the people of neither village could understand a word of the _bahasa_ of
Assilulu, two or three hours’ walk beyond Lariki. In fact, as a rule,
every community that is under one rajah, and this is generally but one
village, has its own peculiar dialect, which is so different from the
dialects of every adjoining village, that all are obliged to learn Malay
in order to carry on any trade or hold any communication with their
nearest neighbors. The _bahasa_ is never a written language, and appears
to be constantly changing, for, at the city of Amboina, the natives have
completely lost their dialect since the foreigners settled among them,
and now can only speak with each other in Malay. The great diversity
in the native dialects, and the general adoption of Malay, existed at
least as early as when the Spaniards first navigated these waters, for
De Barros says: “Two facts give reason to believe that the inhabitants
of these islands consist of various and diverse nations. The first is
the inconstancy, hatred, and suspicion with which they watch each other;
and the second, the great variety of their languages; for it is not the
same with them and the Bisayans (the inhabitants of Bisaya, one of the
Philippines), where one language prevails with all. The variety, on the
contrary, is so great that no two places understand each other’s tongue.
Even the pronunciation differs widely, for some form their words in the
throat, others at the point of the tongue, others between the teeth,
and others in the palate. If there be any tongue through which they can
understand each other, it is the Malay of Malacca, to which the nobles”
(rajahs and capalas) “have lately addicted themselves since the Moors”
(Arabs) “have resorted to them for the clove.” The Malays and Javanese
probably visited these regions long before the Arabs; and they, and not
the Arabs, were the people who first taught these natives the Malay
language.
From Wakasihu I continued during a violent rain-storm along the south
coast to Laha at the mouth of the bay of Amboina, determined to cross
the bay and reach home that night, if possible. There were a number of
villages along the route, and at each I had to procure a new relay of
coolies. This caused much delay, but a foreigner soon learns that he must
have an inexhaustible stock of patience to draw on at any unexpected
moment if he is going to deal with these people. At one village they all
agreed that a neighboring stream, which we could not avoid crossing, had
become so swollen by the heavy rains, that it was absolutely impassable;
but I simply ordered them to quietly follow me, and where I could not
lead the way they might turn back. However, when we came to its banks,
we found before us a deep, foaming torrent, far more uninviting and
dangerous than I had anticipated, yet by following up its course for
half a mile, I came to a place where I made my way to the opposite bank;
but here I found myself hemmed in by a precipitous cliff, and there
could be nothing done except to beat an inglorious retreat. The natives
meantime had been trying the stream farther down, and had found a ford
where the strong current was only waist-deep, and here we safely gained
the opposite bank. After this came another stream even more difficult to
cross, and after that, still a third. Each time I almost expected that
the coolies, who were carrying over my shells, would be swept away, but
they were all so lightly clad that they succeeded in maintaining their
footing, even where the current was perfectly boiling. The streams are
changed into rapid torrents in a few hours in these islands, where the
water seems to come down from the sky in broad sheets whenever it rains.
There are few bridges, and the difficulty of crossing the small rivers is
one of the chief obstacles in travelling here during the rainy season.
However, as a compensation, there is no sultry, scorching sun. Near the
beaches where the streams flow out to the sea, they all widen into deep,
oblong pools, which are made very narrow at high-water level by the
quantities of sand thrown up by the surf. Near the low-water level they
again become broad and shallow, and during ebb-tide the best place to
cross them is on the ocean shore as far down as one can go and avoid the
danger of being swept away by the heavy surf.
It was nearly night when we reached Laha; we were all thoroughly
drenched, and had eaten nothing since morning except some half-ripe
bananas. The storm was unabated, but the rajah said it was possible to
cross the bay against the wind and waves, and three men were detailed to
paddle us six miles to the city. Our boat was a common _leper-leper_,
that is, a canoe made from the trunk of a large tree, with pieces of
plank placed on the sides to raise them to the proper height. Both ends
are sharp, and curve upward. About four feet from the bow a pole is laid
across, and another the same distance from the stern. These project
outward from the side of the boat six or eight feet, and to them is
fastened a bamboo, the whole forming what is known as an “outrigger.”
The canoes themselves are so narrow, that without these external
supports they would be even more crank than the birch-bark canoes of
our red Indians. When we launched our _leper-leper_, and placed on
board our cargo of shells, and got in ourselves, her sides were only
about four inches out of water, but I could not procure a larger boat,
so we started. It soon became so dark that all we could discern on the
neighboring shores were large fires which the natives had made from
place to place to lure the fish by night into their weirs. The wind
also increased, and the waves rose higher and began to sparkle brightly,
and occasionally a strong gust would seem to change the whole surface
of the sea into a sheet of fire. For a time my boatmen felt strong, and
encouraged each other with a wild shouting like an Indian warwhoop, and
in this way we had made more than a mile from the shore, when the wind
became much heavier, and occasionally an ugly wave broke over us. My men
still continued to paddle on until we found that we were scarcely holding
our own against the storm. Then they became discouraged and proposed
to go back, but turning round such a long, narrow boat in the midst of
a rough sea was by no means an easy matter. The man forward stopped to
rest, and just then a heavy flaw struck the front part of the boat,
whirled it round in an instant, and away we flew off before the tempest
like a race-horse. It had now become so dark and thick that, though
the natives knew every foot of the shore, they could not tell where to
steer, and it was only by paddling with all their might that we escaped
running into a mass of foaming breakers. Finally we once more reached the
shore; the rajah had some rice and fish cooked, and at midnight I took
my second meal that day. My bedroom was so open that the wind whistled
in on every side and so completely chilled me that I expected to find
myself burning with fever the next day, but the excitement counteracted
the cold, and I arrived again at Amboina safe and well. After such an
excursion several days were passed writing labels, one of which I placed
in each individual shell, a wearying and almost an endless task, but the
thought continually occurred to me that, if I should not be permitted to
return to my native land, such authentic labels in my own handwriting
would enable any one into whose hands my collection might fall to fully
accomplish the object of my long journey.
_July 23d._—This morning, at a quarter-past four, I was suddenly awaked
by some cause which, for the moment, I could not understand, but
immediately there began a low, heavy rumbling down deep in the earth.
It was not a roar, but such a rattling or quick succession of reports
as is made when a number of heavily-laden coaches are rapidly driven
down a steep street paved with round cobble-stones. At the next instant
it seemed as if some huge giant had seized my bed, and had pushed it
from him and then pulled it toward him with the greatest violence. The
gentleman and lady with whom I was residing shouted out to me: “Run out
of the house! run for your life! There is a dreadful earthquake!”
Back of the main house was the dining-room, surrounded by a low wall, and
covered with a light roof. This was our place of refuge. The gentleman
then explained to me that the shock which had just occurred was the
second, and a very severe one, and the first, which was light, was what
had so suddenly aroused me from a deep sleep. Of course, no one of us
knew but another still heavier might come at the next instant and lay all
the buildings near us in a mass of ruins, if indeed the earth should not
open and swallow us all alive. The time that elapsed between hearing
the rumbling noise and feeling the shock itself was about five seconds.
At this time of the year, in the middle of a monsoon, the wind blows
constantly day and night; but after this earthquake there was not the
slightest perceptible motion in the air. The tree-toads stopped their
steady piping, and the nocturnal insects all ceased their shrill music.
It was so absolutely quiet that it seemed as if all nature was waiting
in dread anticipation of some coming catastrophe. Such an unnatural
stillness was certainly more painful than the howling of the most violent
tempest or the roar of the heaviest thunder. Meantime, lights sprang
up here and there in the neighboring houses, and all the doors were
thrown open, that at the slightest warning everybody might run into the
street. The strange words of the Chinese, Malays, and Arabs, sounded
yet stranger in the dark, still night, as each called in a subdued but
most earnest tone to his or her relatives. The utter helplessness which
every one feels at such a time, where even the solid earth groans and
trembles beneath his feet, makes the solicitude most keenly painful. It
was half an hour—and that half hour seemed an age—before the wind began
to blow as before. Then the nocturnal animals, one after another, slowly
resumed their nightly cries, and our alarm gradually subsided as the dawn
appeared, and once more gave promise of approaching day. I had long been
anxious to witness an earthquake; but since that dreadful night there is
something in the very sound of the word that makes me almost shudder.
There is usually at least one earthquake—that is, one series of shocks—at
Amboina every year, and when eight or ten months have passed without one,
a very heavy shock is always expected.
On the 17th of February, 1674, according to Valentyn, Amboina suffered
from a heavy earthquake, and Mount Ateti, or Wawanu, on Hitu, west
of the village of Zyt, poured out a great quantity of hot mud, which
flowed down to the sea. In 1822 Dr. S. Müller visited it and found a
considerable quantity of sublimed sulphur, and some sulphurous acid gas
rising from it. Again, in 1815, when the volcano of Tomboro, or Sumbawa,
was suffering its terrible eruption, an earthquake was felt at several
places on this island. Many people described to me a series of shocks of
great violence that began on the 1st of November, 1835, and continued
three weeks. The whole population of the city were obliged to leave their
houses and live for all that time in tents and bamboo huts in the large
common back of the forts. Up to that date Amboina had been a remarkably
healthy place, but immediately afterward a gastric-bilious fever broke
out and continued until March, 1845. On the 20th of July of that year
another heavy earthquake was experienced, and this disease at once began
again, but had somewhat subsided, when, on the 18th and 20th of March,
1850, another severe shock occurred, and again for the third time it
commenced anew. This time both the governor and the assistant resident
died. At present Amboina is one of the healthiest islands in these seas.
On the 4th and 5th of November, 1699, a series of earthquakes occurred
among the mountains where the river that flows through Batavia takes its
rise. During these shocks a land-slide occurred, and the water was so
filled with mud that the canals and ramifications of the river in the
city were silted up, and their currents completely stopped. The immediate
consequence was, a large proportion of the population of that city fell
victims to a fever engendered by the great quantities of stagnant water.
No similar cause could have operated here on the island of Amboina. As
the quantity of rain, the strength and direction of the wind, and all
other meteorological phenomena, appear to have been the same as in other
years, it is evident that the disease was connected in some way with
the earthquakes, and the view has been advanced that it was caused by
quantities of poisonous gases which are supposed to have risen out of the
earth during the violent shocks.
Many fine shells were now brought me from Tulahu, a _kampong_ on the
northeast coast of Hitu, so I determined to go on my next excursion
in that direction. Two miles up the bay from the city of Amboina a
tongue of land projects out from either shore, until a passage only
five hundred yards wide is left between them. Within this passage the
sea again expands into a bay about three miles long and a mile and a
half wide. The depth of the water in the passage is sufficient for the
largest ships, yet inside it is nowhere more than twenty or twenty-five
fathoms. A large navy could anchor here, and be perfectly sheltered
from all winds and seas; but vessels rarely or never enter it, as the
road off the city is so far from the mouth of the bay that it is very
seldom any considerable swell rolls in from the ocean, and moreover,
the shores of this bay are considered extremely unhealthy on account of
fevers, while sickness of that kind is very rare at the outer anchorage.
On the eastern or Laitimur side of the bay there are several kampongs
upon the low land along the shore. Back from the low land, on the Hitu
side, there is a gradual ascent to mountains a mile or two back. One of
them, Salhutu, rises twelve hundred metres above the sea, and is the
highest peak on the island. In the shallow water around the head of the
bay grow many mangrove-trees (_Rhizophoræ_). A low isthmus of sand and
alluvium, only some thirteen hundred yards broad, and but a few feet
above high-water level, connects Laitimur with Hitu. Through this a
canal was cut in 1827 to the large bay of Baguala, in order that the
praus bound from Ceram to Amboina might avoid the long route round the
dangerous shores of Laitimur; but in twelve years this passage became
so filled up with sand as to be impassable, except for small boats, and
now they can only go to and fro during high tide, and thus whatever
there is to be transported must be carried on the backs of coolies. It
is very painful to see such valuable improvements neglected and becoming
useless, for it shows that the whole tendency in this region, instead of
being toward progress, is only toward decay. Crossing this isthmus, we
continued along the sandy shores on the north side of Baguala Bay, for
this is the only highway between the city of Amboina and the populous
islands of Haruku, Saparua, and Nusalaut, to the east. Occasionally the
path passed over a projecting point, but when it is low water the natives
usually prefer to follow along the shore, just as their fathers did for
centuries before them, although it is frequently twice as far as by the
road. In an hour and a half we came to Suli, a pretty Christian kampong.
The road then turned to the north and led us for two or three miles
over low hills of coral rock, covered with a thin layer of red soil, to
Tulahu, a village on the north coast, which contains a population of
about fifteen hundred, and is the largest on the island. Near its centre
is a mosque, for the whole community is composed of Mohammedans. As I
passed up the main street on my way to the house of the rajah, scores
of boys and men kept gathering and following, to learn from my servants
who this strange foreigner that headed the procession could be, and
what was the object of his coming. The rajah had been notified by the
Resident of my proposed visit, and received me with a profound “salaam.”
In the village was a _ruma négri_, or “house belonging to the village.”
It had been erected by the villagers, in accordance with orders from the
Dutch Government, for the accommodation of all officials and foreigners
passing that way. It was built in the usual style of foreign houses in
the East, with a broad veranda in front, an admirable place to trade
with the people. A comfortable bedroom was fitted up for me, but I dined
with the rajah. I was always careful to take a good supply of tea and
sugar on such excursions, and my servants purchased chickens, fish, and
whatever else was to be procured; in short, I bought all the food, and
the rajah helped me eat it, so that I fulfilled to the letter the order
of the governor-general that I should prove “no burden to the native
people;” but, on the contrary, as I spent many guilders for shells in
each village, my visits, in their eyes, were special blessings. Again and
again mothers would come with their children and complain most bitterly
that they had so little food and clothing, and beg me to take the shells
they had brought, and name my own price. The rajah at first could hardly
believe I should collect many shells in his village, but I asked him to
beat the _tifa_ for his _capalas_, literally “head men,” but really a
higher class of servants, whose duty it is to convey to the people the
rajah’s commands, and see them duly enforced. The capalas were ordered to
summon all those who probably had shells in their houses, that I might
invite them to trade. Meantime supper was prepared. The first object on
the table that attracted my attention was an _Octopus_, or “inkfish,” an
animal much like the squid of our own shores, which fishermen sometimes
use for bait, and which whalers know is a favorite morsel for blackfish;
but I never heard of men feasting on it before. After this questionable
dish and a chicken were disposed of, the fried fruit of the _Artocarpus
incisa_, or “bread-fruit tree,” was placed on the table. After supper I
walked through all the principal streets of the village, supported on
either side by a capala, who persistently drove all the natives out of
the street before us, and forced them to take their proper place behind
us. To give the trade more _éclat_, I took a good quantity of small
copper coins and distributed them freely among the small children as I
passed along. The result of this manœuvre was most magical; everybody
was anxious to make my acquaintance and sell me shells. Even the good
Mohammedan priest laid aside his feelings of indifference toward the
Christian stranger, and invited me under his roof. He also intimated that
he could favor me with a few species, but, as his prices were five times
as high as those of the common people, I neglected to make a selection
from his treasures.
Each evening that I was in this village the rajah insisted on my passing
hour after hour on his veranda, describing to him the foreign countries
he could name. Like many other natives who would like to be free from all
European rule, it afforded him great comfort to hear that _Tana Ollanda_
(Holland) was much smaller in area than France or England. When I came
to tell him that _Tana America_ was a still greater country, he listened
politely, but a half-incredulous smile revealed his belief that I only
spoke of it in such an enthusiastic manner because I was an American; yet
when I added, that however much other nations might wish to possess these
beautiful islands, America would never have such a desire, his knowledge
of geography seemed to have become complete at once, and he explained
to all who were listening that _Tana America_ was admitted by all to be
the largest and the most powerful of all nations. He also had an almost
endless series of questions to ask about the sovereigns of the lands I
had described, and, like a good Mohammedan, expressed his confidence that
I should speak well of the Sultan of Turkey, whom he appeared to regard
as the next in authority to the Prophet himself.
The next day I went westward to Waai, where I obtained many specimens of
the great _Trochus marmoratus_, which lives in abundance a little farther
toward the northwestern end of the island, but can only be procured alive
during the opposite monsoon. Its beautifully marbled, sea-green surface,
and bright, pearly interior have always made it a favorite ornament for
the parlor in every land. Many, wishing to improve on Nature, remove the
green outer layers either by hydrochloric or nitric acid, so as to give
the exterior also a bright nacreous iridescence. Hundreds of the heavy
opercula of these animals are found on the neighboring shores, for Nature
has provided each with this thick door, which, after it has withdrawn
itself into the shell, it can close behind it, and thus be free from all
harm.
On my return I found my house besieged with more than two hundred of
both sexes and of every age, from infancy to second childhood. Each had
a lot of shells to sell, and therefore the prices were very low; but I
was careful to pay them more than they could earn in any other way in the
same time. The women and children on all these islands are accustomed
to gather mollusks at every low tide for food, and whenever any
particularly rare or beautiful shell is found, it is always saved; and
it was for this reason that I was always confident that I could obtain
some valuable specimens in every village. Here I secured one shell, the
_Strombus latissimus_, or “thick-lipped strombus,” that I had long been
hoping to see. It lives in the deep water between these shores and the
opposite coast of Ceram, and I could not hear that it is found in any
other locality. Many species of long “spindle-shells” (_Fusi_) are found
here—some nearly smooth and some richly ornamented with tubercles.
I had now been on the island four weeks, and it was time for the monthly
mail to arrive, bringing me letters from home. This exciting thought
caused me to forget even my passion for shells, and, promising the
natives I would come again and purchase all the specimens they could
collect, I returned to the city of Amboina.