THE ULIASSERS AND CERAM.
The arrival of the mail here, at Amboina, causes a general rejoicing.
Indeed, it is the only thing there is to break the dull monotony of a
residence in this enervating climate, unless, as happened this month,
there is an earthquake, which affords a grand opportunity for the old
residents to describe to all newcomers the fearful shocks they have
experienced, and this they invariably do with that peculiar kind of
semi-boasting with which a veteran fights over his battles in the
presence of raw recruits. The last earthquake, which everybody witnessed,
is referred to very much as we at home speak of some violent gale that
has swept along the coast. Those who would be weather-wise in our land
here discuss the various directions from which the different shocks
came—upon which there seems a considerable variance of opinion, but I
notice that generally each company agrees with the highest dignitary
present. This was a fortunate mail for me. It brought me letters from
home, and many American papers from our consul at Batavia, who never
failed to send me the latest news all the time I was in any part of the
archipelago. Before the next mail my letters were read and re-read. The
pages of the Boston papers seemed like the faces of familiar friends,
and it was difficult not to peruse the advertisements, column by column,
before I could lay them aside. I, in turn, was able to write my friends
that already I possessed a full series of nearly all the species of
shells I had come to seek.
East of Amboina lie three islands, sometimes called the “Uliassers.”
The first and nearest to Amboina is Haruku (in Dutch Haroekoe); it is
also known to the natives as Oma, or Buwang-bessi, “Ejecting-iron.” The
second is Saparua (in Dutch Saparoea); but according to Mr. Crawfurd it
should be Sapurwa, or Sapurba, from the native numeral _Sa_ standing as
an article, and the Sanscrit, _purwa_, “source,” a name probably given
it by the Malay and Javanese traders, who came here to buy cloves long
before the Portuguese reached such a remote region, and this is made more
probable by the name of the third island Nusalaut (in Dutch Noesalaoet),
which is compounded of the Javanese word _nusa_, “an island,” and the
Malay word _laut_, “the sea.” Nusalaut, therefore, means Sea Island,
and was evidently so named because it is situated more nearly in the
open sea. The Javanese word _nusa_, which is applied, like the Malay
word _pulo_, only to small islands, enables us to trace out the early
course of the Javanese traders. At the southern end of Laitimur is a
kampong named _Nusaniva_ (niba), “Fallen Island,” perhaps because some
island, or a part of Amboina itself, had sunk in that vicinity. Near
the Banda group is Nusatelo (better taluh), “Magic Island.” Saparua is
also known to the natives as Honimoa, and Liaser, whence probably the
old name Uliassers, for this is the most important of the three islands,
and would naturally give its name to the whole group. A merchant from
Saparua, the chief place on the island of that name, was then visiting
Amboina, and kindly invited me to accompany him when he should return—an
invitation I was most happy to accept, for Rumphius received many shells
from these islands, and I anticipated obtaining some species alive, of
which I possessed only shells. A heavy storm delayed us for a week,
a frequent occurrence during the southeast monsoon. From Amboina we
followed my former route to Tulahu, which we reached at evening, the
usual time for commencing a voyage in these seas at this time of year,
because the wind generally moderates after sunset, and freshens again the
next morning soon after sunrise. We embarked at once on a large prau,
manned by eighteen natives of Saparua, and readily distinguished from
the people of Amboina by the peculiar custom of clipping the hair short
all over the head, except a narrow band along the forehead, which is
allowed to hang down over the face, and gives them a remarkably clownish
appearance. One of these men, who was coxswain or captain, steered with
a large paddle; two others were detailed to keep up the continual,
monotonous din, and which these people consider music, and the others
rowed. Our musical instruments were a huge _tifa_, that gave out a dull,
heavy sound, such as would be caused by beating a hollow log, and not
the sharp, quick rap of a drum, which, however monotonous, still has
something stirring and lively in it; and two gongs, imported from China,
and just harsh and discordant enough to please the musical tympanums of
the stupid Celestials. The tifa is beat with a piece of wood of any shape
held loosely in the right hand, while the left hand raises the note by
pressing against the edge of the vibrating skin. There is, therefore, no
such thing as a long roll or a short roll, but one unvaried beating. The
two gongs were of different sizes, and were struck alternately, but this
was so slight a change that it only made the monotony more wearisome.
Each rower had a small wooden box, about a foot long, four inches high,
and six wide, where he carried the all-important betel-nut, siri, lime,
and tobacco. It also served as a chest for his extra clothing.
[Illustration: PINANG, OR BETEL-NUT PALM.]
The betel-nut is the fruit of a tall, slender, and extremely graceful
palm, the _Areca catechu_. The trunk is usually from six to eight inches
only in diameter, but the sheaf of green leaves that springs out of its
top is thirty or forty feet from the ground. Of all the beautiful palms,
this is decidedly the most fascinating to me. Near the house in which I
lived, at Batavia, there was a long avenue of these graceful trees, and
there in the bright mornings, and cool evenings, I was accustomed to
saunter to and fro, and each time it seemed that they were more charming
than ever before. This tree grows over all tropical India, and the whole
archipelago, including the Philippines. Its Malay name is _pinang_,
hence Pulo Pinang is the Betel-nut Island. In nearly all the large
islands it has a different name, an indication that it is indigenous.
In Javanese it is called _jambi_, and a region on the north coast of
Sumatra, where it is very abundant, has therefore received that name. In
favorable situations this tree begins to bear when it is six years old,
and generally yields about a hundred nuts in a loose, conical cluster.
Each nut, when ripe, is about as large as a pullet’s egg, and of a
bright, ochreous yellow. This yellow skin encloses a husk, the analogue
of the thick husk of the cocoa-nut. Within this is a small spherical
nut, closely resembling a nutmeg, but very hard and tough, except when
taken directly from the tree. It is chewed with a green leaf of the
_siri_, _Piper betel_, which is raised only for this purpose, and such
great quantities of it are consumed in this way, that large plantations
are seen in Java solely devoted to its culture. The mode of preparing
this morsel for use is very simple: a small quantity of lime as large as
a pea is placed on a piece of the nut, and enclosed in a leaf of siri.
The roll is taken between the thumb and forefinger, and rubbed violently
against the front gums, while the teeth are closed firmly, and the lips
opened widely. It is now chewed for a moment, and then held between the
teeth and lips, so as to partly protrude from the mouth. A profusion of
red brick-colored saliva now pours out of each corner of the mouth while
the man is exerting himself at his oar, or hurrying along under a heavy
load. When he is rich enough to enjoy tobacco, a small piece of that
luxury is held with the siri between the lips and teeth. The leaf of
the tobacco is cut so fine that it exactly resembles the “fine cut” of
civilized lands; and long threads of the fibrous, oakum-like substance
are always seen hanging out of the mouths of the natives, and completing
their disgusting appearance. This revolting habit prevails not only among
the men, but also among the women, and whenever a number come together to
gossip, as in other countries, a box containing the necessary articles is
always seen near by, and a tall, urn-shaped spit-box of brass is either
in the midst of the circle or passing from one to another, that each may
free her mouth from surplus saliva. Whenever one native calls on another,
or a stranger is received from abroad, invariably the first article that
is offered him is the siri-box.
From Tulahu we crossed a strait about half a mile broad, and came under
the lee of the north side of Haruku, an oblong island, with a long point
on the east and southwest. Its extreme length is about two and a quarter
geographical miles, its greatest width one and a quarter, and its entire
area eight square geographical miles. The surface abounds in hills,
but the highest is not a thousand feet above the sea. Its population
is upward of seven thousand, and is distributed in eleven villages,
and about evenly divided between Christianity and Mohammedanism. Its
geological structure is probably like the neighboring parts of Laitimur.
It is quite surrounded by a platform of coral, which must be bare in
some places at low water. We kept near the shore, so that I could look
down deep into the clear water, and distinctly see many round massive
heads of brain-coral, _Meandrina_, and other beautiful branching forms,
_Astrea_, hundreds of massive and tubular sponges, and broad sea-fans,
_Gorgonias_, as we glided over these miniature forests and wide gardens
beneath the sea.
[Illustration: AFTER THE BATH.]
A clear sunset gave a good promise of an unusually pleasant night,
and the stars twinkled brightly as the evening came on, but the dull
vibrations of the tifa and the continual crashings of the gongs, with now
and then a wild, prolonged shout from one of the oarsmen, and a similar
chorus from the others, kept me awake till late in the night. Finally,
just as a troubled sleep was creeping over me, there was a sudden shout
from every native, and our round-bottomed prau gave a frightful lurch,
first to starboard and then to larboard. All was confusion and uproar,
and my first waking thought was that we must have run into the back of
some sea-monster, and that, perhaps, the sea-serpent was no myth after
all, for when only such savages are seen on the land for men, it is
not unreasonable that hideous, antediluvian monsters must be twisting
their long, snaky forms beneath in the deep, dark ocean. After awhile
the danger was explained: we had struck on a coral reef, though we were
at least half a mile from the shore. This indicates the width, at this
place, of the platform of coral which encircles the whole island. The
heavy swell which had scarcely affected the boat while afloat now made
her roll almost over the moment her keel touched the rock. Such rough,
projecting coral reefs are very dangerous to the best boats, for in a
few moments they will frequently grind a hole through her planks, and
immediately she sinks in the surf, while those on board find themselves
far from the shore. Pushing off, we stood directly eastward to Saparua,
four miles distant, and at half-past three entered a small bay, and were
at the kampong Haria. This island has quite the form of the letter H,
being nearly divided into two equal parts by a deep bay on the south
side and another on the north. The length of the western peninsula,
which is a little longer than that of the eastern, is two and a quarter
geographical miles, and the narrow isthmus which connects them is about a
mile wide. The peninsulas are very mountainous, the highest peaks rising
fifteen hundred feet above the sea, but the isthmus is composed of low
hills, and is mostly an open prairie. The whole area of the island is
ten square geographical miles. Its population numbers more than eleven
thousand, making it the most densely peopled of all the islands that
now produce cloves. Along its shores are no less than sixteen villages,
mostly on the two bays. Of these only three are Mohammedan, the others
are Christian. In 1817, when the English restored these islands to the
Dutch, a great rebellion broke out in this island, which it took nearly
two years to quell, and, what is remarkable, the leaders of this revolt
were Christians, that is, members of the Dutch Church.
From Haria we crossed the southern peninsula to the chief town, also
called Saparua, at the head of the southern bay. Unlike the narrow
footpaths on the island of Amboina, the roads here are broad enough for
carts, though none are used, and besides, at the end of every paal
from the chief village a small square pillar is set up, indicating the
distance from the Resident’s house, and the year it was erected. At
Saparua, my merchant-friend gave me a nice room, and the Resident, who
received me in the politest manner, said he was just planning a tour of
inspection to Nusalaut, the most eastern island of the group, and would
be happy to have me accompany him, an invitation I most gladly accepted,
for the natives had described it to me as abounding in the most beautiful
shells, and already I possessed a few rare species that had passed from
one native to another until they reached me at Amboina. He also showed me
some choice shells that had been sent to him as presents by the various
rajahs. Two were magnificent specimens of that costly wentletrap, the
_Scalaria preciosa_, for which large sums were once paid in Europe.
It was the only kind of shell which I saw or heard of during my long
travels among these islands, of which I failed to obtain, at least, one
good specimen. He also had many very fine map-cowries, which the natives
everywhere regard as rare shells.
That evening the commandant of the “schuterij,” or native militia, was to
celebrate his birthday by giving a ball at the _ruma négri_. I attended,
as a matter of politeness, but not being able to dance myself, withdrew
when they had finished the first waltz, for the anticipation of a ramble
along the neighboring shores on the morrow would have had a far greater
fascination to me than whirling until I was giddy, half embraced in the
arms of one of those dark belles, even if I had understood how to take
all their odd steps with due grace. The passion of these people for
dancing appears to be insatiable, for at eight o’clock the next morning a
good proportion of them were still whirling round and round with as much
spirit as if the _fête_ had just begun. As might naturally be expected,
these natives abhor all application and labor, in the same degree that
they are fond of excitement.
Saparua Bay is one of the most beautiful inlets of the sea. Near its head
is a bold, projecting bluff, and on this rise the white walls of Fort
Duurstede. The other parts of the shore form a semicircular, sandy beach,
which is bordered with such a thick grove of cocoa-nut palms that no one
looking from the bay would imagine that they concealed hundreds of native
houses. Here myriads of flat sea-urchins, _Clypeastridæ_, almost covered
the flats near low-water level, and completely buried themselves in the
calcareous sand as the tide left them. Thousands of little star-fish were
also found in the same locality, hiding themselves in a similar manner.
Higher up the beach among the _algæ_ were many larger star-fishes, with
the usual five rays; but, as sometimes happens among these low animals,
one specimen was provided with one arm more than his companions, and
could boast of six. Where ledges of coral rock rose out of the water,
countless numbers of the little money cowry, _Cypræa moneta_, filled the
excavations formed in this soft rock. They are seldom collected here, as
they are too small to be used for food, and these natives never use them
as a medium of exchange, as has been the custom from the earliest ages in
India.
_August 17th._—At 5 A. M. started with the Resident for Nusalaut. Our
party included the doctor stationed with the garrison, the commandant
of militia, whose birthday had been so faithfully observed the day
before, my merchant-friend, the “stuurman,” or captain, and last, and
perhaps I should add least, a little mestizo scribe, whose proper title
was “the commissie.” A strong head wind, with frequent squalls of rain,
made our progress slow till we reached a high point which the natives
called Tanjong O, the Headland O. From that point over to Nusalaut was a
distance of some two miles. As we left the shore, and pushed out into the
open sea, our progress became still slower. Inch by inch we gained till
we were half-way across, when the wind freshened, and for a time we could
scarcely hold our own, despite the increased jargon from the tifa and
the gong, and a wilder whooping from every native, varied by mutterings
from each, to the effect that he was the only one who was really working.
Almost the moment these people meet with any unexpected difficulty they
become disheartened, and want to give up their task at once, exactly like
little children.
Nusalaut, like the other Uliassers, is completely surrounded by a shallow
platform of coral, which is mostly bare at low water. We therefore
entered a small bay, where the deep water would allow our boat to come
near the shore. Coolies now waded off with chairs on their shoulders,
and landed us dry-footed on the beach, where were a dozen natives, clad
in what is supposed to have been the war-costume of their ancestors long
before the arrival of Europeans. They were quite naked, and carried in
their right hands large cleavers or swords (some of which I noticed were
made of wood). On the left arm was a narrow shield about four feet long,
and evidently more for show than use, as it was only three or four inches
wide in the middle. On the head was a kind of crown, and, as long plumes
are scarce, sticks were covered with white hen-feathers, and stuck in as
a substitute. From their shoulders and elbows hung strips of bright-red
calico, to make them look gay or fierce (it was difficult to say which).
Their war-dance consisted in springing forward and backward, and whirling
rapidly round. Forming in two lines, they fiercely brandished their
swords, as we advanced between them to a little elevation, where all the
rajahs had gathered to receive the Resident.
Nusalaut is oblong in form, less than two miles in length, and in
some places only half a mile wide. Its area, therefore, is somewhat
less than a single square mile. Its surface is hilly, but the highest
point is not more than three hundred meters above the sea, A century
and a half ago its population numbered five thousand, but at present
it is only three thousand five hundred. The number of villages, and,
consequently, of rajahs, is only seven. We first visited Sila, the one
nearest our landing. As we entered the kampong, we found the main street
ornamented in a most tasteful manner. The young, light-yellow leaves of
the cocoa-nut palm had been split in two, and were bent into bows or
arcs with the midrib uppermost, and the leaflets hanging beneath. These
bows were placed on the top of the fence, so as to form a continued
series of arches; a simple arrangement that certainly produced a most
charming effect. As we passed along, scores of heavily-loaded flint-locks
were discharged in our honor, and these mimic warriors continued their
peculiar evolutions. From Sila a short walk brought us to Lainitu, and
here our reception took a new phase. In front of the rajah’s house was
a wide triumphal arch, made of boards, and ornamented with two furious
red lions, who held up a shield containing a welcome to the Resident.
But just before we passed under that, the crowd in front parted, and lo,
before us stood eighteen or twenty young girls, who had been selected
from the whole village for their beauty. They were all arrayed in their
costliest dresses, which consisted of a bright-red sarong and a low
kabaya, over which was another of lace, the latter bespangled with many
thin pieces of silver. Their long, black hair was combed backward, and
fastened in a knot behind, and in this were stuck many long flexible
silver pins, that rapidly vibrated as they danced. Most of them had a
narrow strip of the hair over the forehead clipped short, but not shaven,
a most unsightly custom, and perhaps originally designed to make their
foreheads higher. Their lips were stained to a dull brick-red from
constantly indulging in the use of the betel. They were arranged in
two rows, and their dance, the _minari_, was nothing more than slowly
twisting their body to the right and left, and, at the same time, moving
the extended arms and open hands in circles in opposite directions. The
only motion of their naked feet was to change the weight of the body
from the heel to the toe, and _vice versa_. During the dance they sang
a low, plaintive song, which was accompanied by a tifa and a number of
small gongs, suspended by means of a cord in a framework of _gaba-gaba_,
the dried midribs of palm-leaves. The gongs increased regularly in size
from one of five or six inches to one of a foot or fifteen inches in
diameter. Each had a round knob or boss in the middle, which was struck
with a small stick. When made to reverberate in this manner, their music
was very agreeable, and resembled closely that made by small bells.
Several gentlemen informed me that this instrument was introduced here
from Java by natives of these islands, who were taken there by the Dutch
to assist in putting down a rebellion. It is merely a rude copy of the
instrument called the _bonang_ or _kromo_ in Java. The number of gongs
composing this instrument varies from six or eight to fourteen. In Java
the sticks used in striking the gongs, instead of being made only of
wood, are carefully covered with a coating of gum to make the sound
softer. Another common instrument in Java is the _gambang_, consisting
of wooden or brass bars of different lengths, placed crosswise over a
wooden trough. These are struck with small sticks composed of a handle
and a round ball of some light substance like pith, as shown in the
accompanying photograph of a Javanese and his wife. The instrument in the
left hand is a kind of flute, and that in his right is a triangle exactly
like those used in negro concerts in our land.
[Illustration: MUSICAL INSTRUMENTS USED BY THE MALAYS AT BATAVIA.]
In the Sunda districts of Java very good music is produced by an
instrument which consists of a series of small bamboo tubes of different
lengths, so placed in a rude framework of wood that they can slightly
vibrate, and strike the sides of the frame when it is shaken in the hand.
On the peninsula of Malacca a kind of gigantic Æolian harp is made, by
removing the partitions within a bamboo, thirty or forty feet long, and
making a row of holes in the side as in a flute. This is placed upright
among the dense foliage, and in the varying breeze gives out soft or
heavy notes, until the whole surrounding forest seems filled with the
harps of fairies.
All these natives are passionately fond of music, and perhaps in nothing
has their inventive genius been so well displayed as in their peculiar
musical instruments, which have been brought to the greatest perfection
in Java, where they are so elaborate that a set of eighteen or twenty
pieces, for a complete band, costs from six hundred to one thousand
dollars. A number of these were taken to England by Sir Stamford Raffles,
and carefully examined by a competent judge, who expressed himself
“astonished and delighted with their ingenious fabrication, splendor,
beauty, and accurate intonation.”
While we were watching the slow, graceful dance, dinner was prepared,
and we were summoned from the veranda to an open room in the rear. The
wife of the rajah was the only lady at the table, and, as all the princes
and notables of the other villages were present, the number of guests
who were ready to take seats with us was not small. Our bill of fare
was sufficient to satisfy the most fastidious epicure: for substantial
diet the neighboring forests had furnished us with an abundance of
venison and the meat of the wild boar, and the adjoining bays had yielded
several kinds of nice fish. All was prepared in an unexceptional manner,
and the rich display of pine-apples, mangostins, dukus, and several
kinds of bananas was finer than many a European prince could set before
his guests. The process of demolishing had fully begun, when the dark
beauties, who had been dancing before the house, came in, and ranged
themselves round the table. My first impression was, that they had come
in to see how Europeans eat, and I only refrained from hinting to that
effect to the Resident on my right, because he had already smiled to
see my surprise at our novel reception, and besides, I was anxious not
to appear to be wholly ignorant of their odd customs. Soon they began
to sing, and this, I thought to myself, is probably what is meant by a
sumptuous banquet in the East, and, if so, it well deserves the name.
As the song continued, one after another took out a handkerchief of
spotless white, and folding it into a triangular form, began to fan the
gentleman in front of her. This is indeed Eastern luxury, I said to
myself, and while I was wondering what would come next, the damsel behind
the Resident reached forward and gave him a loud kiss on his cheek. “That
was intended as an appetizer I presume?” _Natuurlijk_, “Of course,” he
replied, and I leaned back in my chair to give way to a hearty laugh,
which I had been trying for a long time to restrain, when suddenly
I was astonished by a similar salutation on the lips! It was done so
quickly that I had no time to recover from my bewildering surprise, and
coolly explain that such was not the custom in my land. Instead of my
laughing at the Resident’s expense, the whole party laughed at mine;
but my confusion was dispelled by the assurance of all that even the
governor-general himself had to submit to such treatment when he came
to inspect these islands. Besides, I was made aware that the fault was
largely my own, and that, when I leaned backward to laugh, the fair one
behind me had misinterpreted the movement as a challenge (which she
certainly seemed not loath to accept). At every village we had to run a
similar gantlet, and I must confess that several times it occurred to me
that the youngest member of the party certainly received his share of
such tender attention, and that many of these beauties, _nona itum_, were
determined to improve their present opportunity for fear that they might
never again have the privilege of kissing a gentleman with a white face.
The Resident’s duties, while on a tour of inspection, consist chiefly
in visiting and examining the schools, of which there is one in every
village on this island, except at one place where two kampongs, which are
near each other, have one in common. On Saparua also thirteen out of the
sixteen villages are each provided with a school, and on Haruku eleven
villages are supplied with six schools, so distributed over the island as
to be accessible to all. The facilities, therefore, afforded by the Dutch
Government to these natives to acquire a good common education are far
better than they are in many civilized lands. The teachers are all well
paid. Those on this island are all natives. They are remarkably awkward,
probably because they feel dressed up; for, on such an important occasion
as the present, every one who holds a government office must appear in
a black suit. Again and again I found it required great self-command
to keep from smiling when it was expected I should look very grave and
dignified; for here, on the outskirts of civilization, I beheld all the
fashions of Europe, apparently for the last two hundred years. All the
petty officials wore dress coats, some with tails almost on the ground,
and others with sleeves so long that you could scarcely see the ends
of the fingers, and still others with the waists so small that they
seemed to be in corsets. Some of these coats had narrow collars, and
had evidently been worn by the most dainty exquisites, while others had
lapels broad enough for the outer coat of a coachman. As soon as the
inspection is over these precious articles are carefully rolled up and
thoroughly smoked, to prevent their being destroyed by the ants. They are
then placed away till the next year, when they are again unrolled and at
once put on, entirely filled with wrinkles, and giving out the strongest
odors.
On entering the school-house the Resident is greeted with a welcome that
has been prepared long before by the teacher and committed to memory by
a small boy, who now steps forward, and, stretching out both arms at
full length, repeats the oration at the top of his voice, occasionally
emphasizing certain sentences by making a low bow, but taking care
all the time not to bend his extended arms. This ordeal finished, the
children join in singing a psalm, all keeping time by striking the
forefinger of the right hand with the palm of the left. It was most
amusing to see the little ones perform their part of the ceremony. The
four classes, into which the schools are divided, are now successively
examined. The two younger classes in reading and spelling the Malay
language, written in the Roman alphabet, according to the Dutch rules
of pronunciation. The two older classes are likewise examined in these
branches, in penmanship, and the simple rules of arithmetic.
As I visited school after school I became more and more surprised at the
general proficiency of the children, and I am certainly of the opinion
that they would compare very favorably with the children of the same ages
in our own country districts. This remarkable promise in childhood is
not, however, followed by a corresponding development during youth and
manhood.
The population[31] of these islands is divided into the following kinds:
first, that of Europeans, which also includes the mestizoes, or, as
they are always called here, “half-castes,” who are of all shades of
mixture, from those who are as white as Europeans to those who are as
brown as the natives. Outside of the city of Amboina nine-tenths of the
so-called Europeans are really mestizoes. The second class is composed
of those natives who are not required by the government to work in the
clove-gardens. They are named by the Dutch “burgers.” The third class
includes the _negroijvolken_ or “villagers,” and the fourth comprises
those who were slaves, and are mostly natives of Papua. The “villagers,”
or common people, have paid no direct tax, but have been required instead
to work a certain number of days in the clove-gardens belonging to the
government, and also sell to the government all they raise themselves
at a certain price. Now the Dutch are changing this indirect mode of
taxation into a direct mode, and requiring the able-bodied men to pay one
guilder each this year, but not obliging them to work so many days in the
gardens. Next year they are to pay two guilders and work a less number of
days, and so on till the fifth year, when they will pay five guilders,
and be entirely free from any other tax.
After the examination of the school has been finished, all the
able-bodied men are called together before the rajah’s house, and the
Resident explains to them this change, and what will be expected of them
during the coming year. At present each village is obliged to furnish
men at a certain price to carry the chair of every official and of every
one who, like myself, has an order for such a privilege from the head
government at Batavia. In four years from this time each official will be
obliged to make a separate trade at every village with his chair-bearers,
and these people are so indolent, and so given to demanding the most
extravagant prices, that I fear the chief effect of this change will
be to diminish even the little travel and trade there are now, unless
the present system shall be continued till large numbers of horses are
introduced.
This proposed taxation will certainly be very light, for each man can
earn the five guilders required of him by carrying coal or freight for a
week at the city of Amboina.
The great obstacle to every reform among these natives is, that only a
very few of them, if they have enough for one day, will earn any thing
for the morrow. “_Carpe diem_” is a motto more absolutely observed here
than in luxurious Rome. The desire of all Europeans to have something
reserved for sickness or old age is a feeling which these people appear
to never experience, and such innate improvidence is, unfortunately,
encouraged from their earliest childhood by the unfailing and unsparing
manner in which Nature supplies their limited wants. The possibility of a
famine is something they cannot comprehend.
In 1854, 120,283 Amsterdam pounds of cloves were raised on this island
from 13,042 trees, each tree yielding the great quantity of nine pounds.
In the same year, on Saparua, from 29,732 fruit-trees, 181,137 Amsterdam
pounds were gathered, one-third of the whole crop (510,912 pounds)
obtained that year in Amboina, Haruku, Saparua, and Nusalaut. On Haruku
38,803 pounds were gathered that year. These three islands, Haruku,
Saparua, and Nusalaut, with the neighboring south coast of Ceram, form
one residency, over which an assistant resident or resident of the
second rank is placed.
From Lainitu we passed along the northern shore to Nullahia, where we
remained for the night. Here I purchased many beautiful “harp-shells”
and a few large cones, which were formerly so rare that they have been
sold in Europe for more than two hundred dollars apiece. The next day we
continued on to Amet, the largest _kampong_ on the island. Here a good
missionary was located, who was indeed like Melchisedek, “both priest
and king.” From this place he is accustomed to travel to the various
villages, preaching, teaching, and keeping a general surveillance over
the conduct of his people, and the good results of his labor were well
shown in the general spirit of thrift and order which characterizes these
villages as compared to the Mohammedan kampongs I had previously visited
on the shores of Amboina. Every person in all these villages is nominally
a Christian, and this, I believe, is the only island in the archipelago
of which that can be said. The missionary, however, informs me that a few
of them occasionally steal away to some secret place among the mountains
where they practise their ancient rites by making offerings to spirits,
possibly those of their ancestors, which they were accustomed to worship
before the introduction of Christianity.
The village of Amet is one of the best places in the whole Moluccas to
gather shells. The platform of coral which begirts the island extends out
here nearly two English miles from high-water level to where the heavy
swell breaks along its outer edge; and all this flat area is either
bare at low tide, or only covered to the depth of a few inches by small
pools. Here the beautiful “mitre-shells” abound—the _Mitra episcopalis_,
or “Bishop’s mitre,” and the _Mitra papalis_, or “Pope’s mitre,” and many
beautiful cones and cypræas.
From Amet to Abobo, at the southern end of the island, a distance of
more than a mile, the coral platform narrows until it is quite near
the high-water line. Along the whole length of this reef the heavy
swell from the ocean is seen rising again and again into one grand
wall, which, slowly curling its high white crest, plunges headlong
over the soft polyps, which, despite the utmost efforts of the ocean,
slowly but continually advance their wondrous structure seaward. This
endless lashing and washing of the waves, which would wear away the most
adamantine rocks, only enables those delicate animals to work with a
greater vigor, and this is probably the chief reason that the reef here
is wider than anywhere else along the shores of the neighboring islands.
Between Amet and Abobo there is sometimes found a very beautiful cone,
covered with mottled bands of black and salmon-color, which once
commanded fabulous prices in Europe, and is now generally regarded by
the natives as the most valuable shell obtained in these seas. Although
I travelled along nearly all the shores of the adjacent islands, I was
continually assured that this part of Nusalaut was the only place where
this shell was ever found, an assertion which I regard as true, so
sparing is Nature of her choicest treasures.
Returning from Abobo to Nullahia and Lainitu, I took a small prau for
Saparua. The monsoon was light and the sea smooth at first, but when
again we approached Tanjong O, which these natives always spoke of with
the same respect that our sailors speak of Cape Horn, we found a very
strong current setting in one direction, while the wind had freshened
from the opposite quarter. The meeting of the wind and current made the
waves rise irregularly up in pyramids and tumble over in every direction.
The natives, apparently half terrified, stripped off their clothes, as
if they expected that the boat would certainly be swamped, and that soon
their only chance of escape would be to swim to the shore and attempt
to climb up the ragged rocks through the surf; but I encouraged them to
paddle with all their might, and though several waves broke over us,
we went safely through. As soon as the danger was past, each native
frequently looked back and boastfully shook his head, as if to taunt the
evil spirit that dwells on this dangerous headland.
When we arrived at Saparua, I found the Resident just on the point of
starting for the neighboring coast of Ceram, and only waiting to invite
me to accompany him. So again I was in good fortune, for I had not
anticipated reaching that almost unknown island. From the southern bay
we were taken in chairs across the isthmus, that connects the two main
parts of Saparua, to the north bay. It was now night, but we continued
along the east side of this bay to the kampong Nollot, at the northern
end of the island, the nearest point to the part of Ceram we were to
visit. Scores of natives followed us, some to relieve each other as
chair-bearers, and others to carry immense torches of dry palm-leaves,
which successively blazed brightly for a moment and lighted up the
adjoining forests and our strange party. Several villages lay along our
route, and, as we entered each, huge piles of leaves were set on fire,
and the half-naked natives all whooped and shouted until we really seemed
to be in the midst of the infernal regions.
At daylight the next morning we started in two praus for Ceram. As we
left the rajah’s house the beauties of the villages gathered on the bank,
and, while we were embarking, chanted a song of hope that we should have
“a pleasant voyage over the sea, and soon return in safety.” The tifa and
gongs began the monotonous din, the rowers shouted and tugged at their
oars, and the high peaks of Saparua slowly sank beneath the horizon. For
a time no land was in sight, and I could but note how perfectly we were
repeating the experience of the earliest navigators of the Mediterranean
along the shores of Phœnicia and Greece.
Ceram is the largest island in the Moluccas. Its length is one hundred
and sixty-two geographical miles, but its greatest breadth is only forty.
Its area is computed to be about five thousand geographical square miles,
which makes it rank next to Celebes in the whole archipelago. It is
divided into three peninsulas by two deep bays on its southern coast. The
most eastern of these great inlets of the sea is called Elpaputi Bay,
which separates the western end of the island from the eastward. The
western third is again divided into two unequal peninsulas by the bay of
Tanuno. The westernmost is called Howamowel, or “Little Ceram,” and is
connected with the middle peninsula, Kaibobo, by an isthmus less than a
mile broad. Kaibobo is again connected with the eastern two-thirds of the
island by an isthmus about three miles broad. The whole island is really
but one great mountain-chain, which sends off many transverse ranges and
spurs, and the only low land it contains is east of the bay of Amahai,
along its southern shore. In the western peninsula the mountains do not
have any considerable height, but in the middle one some peaks attain
an elevation of five thousand or six thousand feet, and in the middle
part of the eastern peninsula Mount Nusaheli is supposed to rise more
than three thousand metres (nine thousand eight hundred and forty-two
English feet) above the sea. Over all these elevations stretches one
continuous and unbroken forest. So great a part of the whole island is
unknown that various and widely-different estimates of its population
have been made.[32] Some of its peaks now became visible through the
mist, and soon we were in Elpaputi Bay, and, changing our course toward
the east, entered a small inlet called the bay of Amahai. At the head of
this bay is the small village of the same name, containing a population
of thirteen hundred souls. The _controleur_ stationed here told us of
the “Alfura”[33] who dwelt among the neighboring mountains; and, that I
might have the opportunity of seeing these wild savages, the Resident
kindly sent a number of the coast people to invite them to come down and
perform their war-dance before us. In a few hours a party of about twenty
appeared. Only eight or ten were able-bodied men; the others were women,
children, and old men. In height and general appearance they closely
resemble the Malays, and evidently form merely a subdivision of the Malay
race. Their peculiar characteristics are the darker color of their skins
and of their hair, which, instead of being lank like that of the Malays,
is crisp, but not woolly like that of the Papuans. They wear it so very
long, that they may properly be said to have large and bushy heads.
When in full dress, however, this abundance of hair is confined by a red
handkerchief, obtained from the natives on the coast, and ornamented with
parts of a small shell, the _Nassa_, in place of beads. Their clothing is
a strip of the inner bark of a tree beaten with stones until it becomes
white and opaque, and appears much like white, rough paper. This garment
is three or four inches wide and about three feet long. It passes round
the waist and covers the loins in such a way that one end hangs down in
front as far as the knee. On the arm, above the elbow, some wore a large
ring, apparently made from the stalk of a sea-fan, _Gorgonia_. To this
were fastened bunches of long, narrow green leaves, striped with yellow.
Similar ornaments were fastened to the elbows and to the strip of bark
at the waist. Each of the warriors was armed with a _parang_ or cleaver,
which he raised high in the right hand, while on his left arm was a
shield three or four feet long but only four or five inches wide, which
he held before him as if to ward off an imaginary blow. Their dance was
merely a series of short leaps forward and backward, and occasionally
whirling quickly round as if to defend themselves from a sudden attack
in the rear. Their only musical instrument was a rude tifa, which was
accompanied by a monotonous song from the women, children, and old men.
At first the time of the music was slow, but by degrees it grew quicker
and louder, until all sang as fast and loud as they could. The dancing
warriors became more excited, and flourished their cleavers and leaped
to and fro with all their might, until, as one of our company remarked,
their eyes were like fire. It was easy to understand that in such a
state of temporary madness they would no more hesitate to cleave off a
head than to cut down a bamboo. They are far-famed “head-hunters.” It is
a custom that has become a law among them that every young man must at
least cut off _one human head before he can marry_. Heads, therefore,
are in great demand, and perhaps our realization of this fact made these
frenzied savages appear the more shocking specimens of humanity. The
head of a child will meet the inexorable demands of this bloody law, but
the head of a woman is preferred, because it is supposed she can more
easily defend herself or escape; for the same reason the head of a man is
held in higher estimation, and the head of a white man is a proof of the
greatest bravery, and therefore the most glorious trophy.
On the north coast, near Sawai Bay, the Dutch, a few years ago, had a war
with these natives, and when they had driven them to the mountains, they
found in their huts between two and three times as many human skulls as
it is probable there were people in the whole village, men, women, and
children taken together. When a man is afraid to go out on such a hunt
alone, he invites or hires two or three others to assist him, and all
lie in wait near a neighboring village until some one chances to pass
by, when they spring out and dispatch their victim, and escape. This,
of course, creates a deadly enmity between each tribe and every other
near it; and the whole interior of the eastern half of the island, where
this head-hunting prevails, is one unchanging scene of endless, bloody
strife. The same custom prevails over the greater part of the interior
of Borneo among many tribes known as Dyaks, the Malay word for “savage.”
There only the heads of men are valued, and new ones must be obtained to
celebrate every birth and funeral, as well as marriage. I have seen a
necklace of human teeth made in that island by those people. Small holes
had been drilled in several scores of them, which were then strung on a
wire long enough to pass two or three times round the neck of the hero
who wore it. When a head is secured, the brains are taken out, and it
is placed over a fire to be smoked and dried. During this process, the
muscles of the face contract and change the features until they assume a
most ghastly grimace.
The dance being finished, we conversed with them as well as we could
about their customs, for none of them could speak but a few words in
Malay. On the piece of paper-like bark which hangs down in front, each
warrior makes a circle when he cuts off a head. Some had one or two of
these circles; but one man had four, and I gave him to understand that I
knew what they meant by drawing my hand four times across my throat, and
then holding up the fingers of one hand, and instantly he hopped about
as delighted as a child, thinking that of course I was regarding him as
the bravest of the brave, while I looked at him in mute astonishment,
and tried to realize what a hardened villain he was. Our North American
savages are civilized men compared to these fiends in human form.
[Illustration: A DYAK OR HEAD-HUNTER OF BORNEO.]
From Amahai we sailed westward across Elpaputi Bay to the peninsula
already described as rejoicing in the melodious name of Kaibobo. Here,
at a small village, a native of Amboina had established himself,
and commenced planting cocoa-trees, which we found thriving most
satisfactorily, even better than in the gardens I had previously visited
on Amboina. At the present prices this is the most profitable product
that can be raised in the Moluccas, and the good result of this trial
shows what enormous quantities might be shipped yearly from this single
great island of Ceram, if foreigners or natives would devote themselves
to its culture.
Near by were two villagers of Alfura, who had been induced to abandon
their old habits of roaming among the mountains and make for themselves
a fixed dwelling-place. The rajah of each place came to the village
where we landed, to acknowledge his allegiance to the Dutch Government.
From that place we proceeded southward along the eastern shore of the
peninsula. While we were in the bay, the opposite shore sheltered us
from the heavy southeasterly swell that now rolled in before a driving
rain-storm, and made our round-bottomed _praus_ roll and pitch so that
the rowers could scarcely use their oars. At length, near night, we
came to anchor off a village that the Resident was obliged to visit.
It was situated on a straight, open beach, which descended so abruptly
beneath the sea, that the high swell never once broke before finding
itself suddenly stopped in its rapid course; it rose up in one huge wall
that reeled forward and fell on the steep shore with a roar like heavy
thunder. Although I was born by the shore of the open sea, and had seen
boats land in all kinds of weather, I never saw the most daring sailors
attempt it through such a surf as was breaking before us. Every few
moments the water would rebound from the sand until it rose twice and
a half as high as the natives standing near it, at least fifteen feet.
One of our number could not conceal his timidity, and declared that
every one of us would be drowned if we should attempt to land at that
time. The Resident, however, said he should try it, and I assured him he
should not go alone; and the others concluded not to allow themselves to
be left behind. More than two hundred natives had now gathered on the
beach. They soon made a rude skid or wide ladder, with large poles on the
sides, and small green ones with the bark torn off for the rounds. This
was laid down when the wave was forming, and a heavy prau pushed on to
it as the wave broke, and a broad sheet of surf partially buoyed her up.
As this wave receded, she was successfully launched. We were now ordered
to change from our boat into that one, and at once we ran in toward the
shore over the heavy rollers. Other natives now appeared on the beach
with a huge coil of rattan an inch or more in diameter, and, two or three
of them seizing one end, ran down and plunged headlong into a high wave
as coolly and as unhesitatingly as a diver would leap from the side of
a boat in a quiet bay. The end of the rattan was fastened firmly to the
front part of our boat; the other was carried up a long way on the beach,
and the natives ranged themselves in two rows, each grasping it with
one hand as if ready to haul in the leviathan himself, when the warning
should be given. A number of heavy seas now rolled in and broke, but the
natives, by means of their paddles, kept us from being swept forward or
backward. A smaller swell is coming in now. Every native gives a wild
yell, and those on the shore haul in the rattan with all their might, and
away we dart on the crest of a wave with the swiftness of an arrow. We
are now in the midst of the surf, and our boat is on the skid, but away
we glide at the speed of a locomotive, and already we are high upon the
bank before the next wave can come in.
[Illustration: LANDING THROUGH THE SURF ON THE SOUTH COAST OF CERAM.]
The Resident, who enjoyed surprising me as much as possible, had
carefully concealed the urgent business that had compelled him to land
in such a difficult place, and my curiosity was not diminished when
I noticed his imperative orders for the militia, who accompanied us
as a guard, to come on shore immediately. We were evidently near, or
already in, an enemy’s country. A large gathering of the natives was now
ordered at the rajah’s house, an examination began, and several men were
sentenced to be seized by the guard and brought to Amboina for trial.
They had been guilty of participating in a _feest kakian_, or meeting
of a secret organization, that was formed as early at least as a few
years after the arrival of the Dutch. There are various opinions as to
its object, some asserting that it originated as a confederation of many
tribes against other tribes, and others supposing its design to be to
resist the authority of the Dutch, the view apparently entertained by
that government.
But a short time before we arrived they had held one of their drunken
revels at a place only half an hour’s walk among the neighboring
mountains. In these convivials at first each indulges as freely as he
chooses in an intoxicating liquor made from the juice of the flowering
part of a palm; then all join in a dance, and kick about a human head
which has been obtained for this especial occasion, and is tossed into
the midst of these human fiends all besmeared with its own clotted blood.
The natives whom our soldiers were seizing were present and took part in
one of these bloody carousals, as they themselves acknowledged. I must
confess that a sickening sensation, akin to fear, crept over me that
night before I fell asleep, as I realized the probability that, if it
were not for our guard, instead of our taking away those culprits to be
punished as they richly deserved, they would sever every one of our heads
and have another diabolical revel over their bloody trophies.
All night the wind piped loudly in strong gusts, and the heavy pulsating
of the surf came up from the beach beneath us. In the morning the storm
had not abated, but I was anxious to go back to Amboina, and no one of
the party desired to remain long in that savage place. To embark was more
difficult than to land. Again the skid was put down on the sand, the prau
placed on it, and as the water receded the natives pushed us off, several
waves sweeping over their heads; but they were so completely amphibious,
that it did not appear to trouble them in the least. Unfortunately,
a strong gust struck us just as we floated, and for some minutes we
remained motionless in one spot, the sea rolling up until what Virgil
says, with a poet’s license, was literally true of us, the naked earth
could be seen beneath our keel.
Again all that day we pitched and tossed, and the distance we had to go
seemed endless, until, as the sun sank, the high land of Saparua rose
before us and we entered a broad bay. The natives saw us coming, and
quickly kindled on the shore huge blazing fires, which were repeated in
the form of long bands of bright light on the mirror-like surface of the
quiet sea, and now we were welcomed with shouts to the same place where
the native belles had sung such a plaintive song at our departure.
From Saparua I returned directly to Amboina, for one who has been
accustomed to the mail facilities of our land will subject himself to
almost any inconvenience in order to reach the place where the mail-boat
touches.
Life at Amboina, and at almost every other place in the Dutch
possessions, at the best is dull. Once or twice a month, in accordance
with an established custom, the governor gives a reception on Sunday
evenings, when all the Europeans and most of the mestizoes come and dance
till late; and as there are some seven hundred of these people in the
city, and the larger portion attend, such parties are quite brilliant
affairs. The music is furnished by a small band connected with the
detachment of soldiers stationed here.
An occasional wedding also helps to break up the unvarying monotony,
and kindly furnishes a topic for general conversation, so that for a
time every one does not feel obliged to complain of the abundance of
rain, if it is the rainy season, or of the lack of rain if it is the dry
monsoon. Whenever an official goes back to Holland, or is transferred
from one place to another, which usually occurs once in three years, even
when he is not promoted, he sells most of his furniture at auction. His
friends always muster in full force, and each one is expected to show his
attachment to his departing friend by purchasing a number of articles, or
something of little value, at ten or a hundred times its price. Such an
occasion also gives a change to the talk among merchants.
An auction here, instead of being a kind of private trade, as with us, is
directly under the management of the government. An authorized auctioneer
is regularly appointed at each place, and a scribe carefully enters the
name of the successful bidder, the article he has purchased, and the
price. Three months of grace are allowed before such a bill becomes due,
but then the buyer must at once pay the sum due or make some arrangement
satisfactory to the seller. When natives, whose assets are always
limited, have purchased a number of articles, the scribe frequently takes
upon himself the responsibility of ordering them not to bid again.