THE PADANG PLATEAU.
As I had seen only a small portion of the _Padangsche Bovenlanden_, or
Padang plateau, I again set off for the interior, following the same
route that I had taken before, namely, north, over low lands to the left
of the Barizan chain. As the governor’s “American” had not arrived from
Saboga, he kindly borrowed for me a “bendy,” that is, a small, heavy,
two-wheeled chaise. He gave me an order allowing me to use two horses if
I pleased; and, by the time I had travelled twenty miles, I was glad to
avail myself of the privilege. A bamboo was fastened across the thills
and allowed to project four or five feet on one side, and the additional
horse was then placed beside the other, the usual mode of driving tandem
in this country. To complete the odd style of harnessing these half-tamed
steeds, the natives arranged the reins so that I was obliged to hold two
in the left hand and but one in the right. The result was, that the outer
horse was as loose as those harnessed in a similar manner in Russia, and
altogether beyond my control. Whenever we came to a slight descent, he
would always spring into a full gallop, and the one in the thills would
follow his example. Then came a few severe shocks against the large
stones in the road, and we found ourselves at the bottom of the hill One
time the shocks were so severe that my footman, who had a seat behind,
and a good place to hold on with both hands, was missing when I reached
the bottom of the hill, and, on looking round, I found the bendy had
flung him off some distance upon the rough stones. When we reached Kayu
Tanam, thick clouds, that had been gathering on the adjacent lofty peaks,
rolled down and poured out a perfect flood of rain. The drops were so
large, and fell with such momentum, that it seemed like standing under
a heavy shower-bath. The lightning gleamed as it only does in tropical
lands, and the thunder roared as if the great Barizan chain on my right
was splitting open again, and forming another immense “cleft.” I was
wondering that my horses were not frightened amid such terrific peals,
when suddenly a piercing flash dazzled my eyes, and the same instant came
a sharp crash like the sudden breaking of a thousand heavy timbers, and
for a moment I was quite bewildered. Both horses reared until they nearly
stood on their hind feet, and then plunged forward in a perfect state of
fright. The road there chanced to be straight, and I let them go at the
top of their speed for a mile or two, when they again became somewhat
manageable, and in this way we flew along high up the side of a great
ravine and came into the deep cleft. Ascending the cañon, we came to
Padang Panjang, and the next day to Fort de Kock. The waterfall opposite
where we entered the cleft was considerably swollen by the heavy rains,
and a small stream, separate from the main fall, was shooting over the
high edge of the precipice. On a steep declivity near by, a small stream
had coursed part way down, completely hidden from view by the thick sheet
of vegetation that covered the rocks, until, striking some obstacle, it
flew off into the air in a great jet, which appeared to come out of the
solid rock.
From Fort de Kock my course was nearly west a day’s ride to Paya Kombo.
At first the road led over a level or slightly undulating land which
abounds in villages, and is highly cultivated. A number of small streams
that rise on the northern flanks of the great Mérapi, flow northward
across the plain, and then turn to the east and join to form the Batang
Agam. Nine miles out we came to a range of jagged hills, the scanty
soil on their sides only serving to make their sharp, projecting rocks
more conspicuous and unsightly, like a tattered garment thrown over a
skeleton. This rock I found to be a highly crystalline marble of a blue
color, completely split up by joints and fissures into cubical blocks,
whose outer surfaces have everywhere become greatly roughened by the
action of rain and heat. Subsequently I had an opportunity of learning
that it makes a very valuable kind of white lime.
We presently found ourselves descending into a beautiful valley, through
which the Agam, already a considerable stream, courses rapidly along.
The road immediately approached its banks, crossed it over a high stone
bridge, and then ran along a narrow terrace cut in a high precipice of
the limestone cliff, whose feet were bathed in the small river. On the
level land and hills in this region, the only rock which outcropped
was a red sandstone, composed of strata that have been considerably
plicated in many places; but they are evidently of a recent formation
and unconformable to the older crystalline limestone on which they rest.
Passing the Mérapi, we rode down a gradually descending plain that lies
on the north of Mount Sago.
Early in the afternoon we came to Paya Kombo, where an assistant
resident is stationed. His residence is the finest building I have seen
in Sumatra. He greeted me kindly, and introduced me to the assistant
resident stationed at Fort Van der Capellan, the next chief place I was
designing to visit. Thus I found a pleasant companion, and one who could
explain the peculiarities of the country I should see during the next two
days.
_April 2d._—Rode from Paya Kombo to Bua with the Resident of this
district. A short distance from Paya Kombo we crossed a large and very
beautiful stone bridge that had been planned and superintended by a
government official who had never received the slightest training in
architecture. Our course was nearly southwest, and the road slowly
ascended, for we were really coming upon the flanks of Mount Sago. It
then changes to the east, and again to the south, as we made a circuit
round the eastern side of the mountain. This part of the road was
built on a steep acclivity, that descended to the deep valley of the
Sinamu on our left. The higher hills on the opposite side of the valley
are probably of limestone. When we came round to the south side of
Mount Sago, before us lay the charming valley of Bua, perhaps the most
beautiful valley in Sumatra. On our left was a range of hundreds of sharp
peaks, a continuation of the limestone chain noticed yesterday between
Fort de Kock and Paya Kombo. Near their feet is the Sinamu, now a small
river, flowing away to the southeast. At Paya Kombo this stream flows
to the southeast, which is its general course for about twenty-five
miles after it passes Mount Sago; it then changes to the east, and is
known as the Indragiri. It is a fair sample of the tortuous course of
all the streams in the mountainous parts of Sumatra. They wind to and
fro so abruptly, that sometimes the traveller comes to the banks of a
river without suspecting for a moment that it is the very one which he
was following in a wholly different direction the day before. The only
way it is possible to realize the irregularities of these streams, is
to examine a map of this region on a very large scale. On our left was
another high range walling in the narrow valley, the bottom of which
curves gradually upward as it approaches either side. The level parts of
the valley are all changed into beautiful sawas, which are now filled
with young rice-blades of a bright green. Riding down the valley for four
or five miles, we came to the _controleur’s_ house at Bua. It is situated
near the west side of the valley, facing the north. Thick clouds, that
had been hiding the top of Mount Sago, now vanished into pure air, and
the old crater-walls came grandly into view. They are so deeply notched
on the southern side, that I could look directly up into the crater from
the _controleur’s_ residence in the valley. The sharp limestone needles,
on the east side of the valley, also were more distinct. They were only
three miles away, and yet I counted no less than twenty separate peaks
in a straight line, at right angles with my vision, in fifteen degrees
along the horizon. Looking up from the village of Bua toward Mount Sago,
the view has a charming ideal effect—such as one might expect to see in
a composite painting, where wonderful details of scenery from different
localities are harmoniously combined.
_April 3d._—At 6 A. M. went with the _controleur_ and rajah, and about
forty natives, to a large cave west of Bua, in the limestone range that
forms the western boundary of the valley. Coming to a small stream
that flows out of this chain, we followed its course upward, until we
found it issuing from beneath a high arch that opened into a large
cavern. Here the strata of the limestone were more distinct than I have
seen elsewhere. They have a dip of about 20° west, their strike being
northwest and southeast, the general direction of the chain. Immediately
within the arch the roof of the cave rose into a dome, apparently more
than one hundred feet high at the centre. Flocks of swallows had made
this their building-place, and, disturbed by the smoke of our torches,
they made the cavern resound with their sharp chirping. On the walls
were many stalactites that closely resembled the luxuriant orchids and
parasites of tropical forests, as if Nature were here reproducing in
stone the wonders of the vegetable kingdom. After crossing the stream two
or three times we came to the end of this grand hall, and climbed up what
appeared to be a waterfall, but was, in reality, solid stone. The water,
flowing over the steep ledge of limestone, had in time deposited over its
rough edges an incrustation, which, of course, took exactly the form of
the running water that made it.
Having reached the top of this petrified fall, we passed on our hands and
knees through a small hole, and found ourselves in another large hall of
an elliptical form. At the farther end was a small rivulet gurgling its
way among the large rocks that covered the floor of the cave. I had been
told that this water was so hot that a man could not hold his hand in it;
but, on trying it with the thermometer, I found the mercury only rose to
92° Fahrenheit, not quite up to blood-heat (98°). It abounded, however,
in small fish about four inches long, several of which the natives caught
with their hands. They all had eyes that were apparently well formed,
though this place seemed to us absolutely cut off from daylight.
Returning to the outer cave, we proceeded a short way by wading in the
bed of the stream, but the cavern now diminished into an irregular
tunnel, and the water that flowed through it was too deep for us to go
on in safety, and we were therefore obliged to return. The _controleur_
informed me that one of his predecessors had gone on and come out again
in the plain near Fort Van der Capellen, so that the cave is really
a tunnel, which passes completely through the whole chain; and the
distance from its mouth at this place to the opening at its opposite end
must be at least five miles in an air line. While the natives were in the
water, and each held a blazing torch, I ordered them to range themselves
a few feet apart in a long line. The light reflected from the changing
surface of the flowing stream beneath, and the wide irregular rocks
and stalactites above, and the dark half-naked bodies of the natives
themselves, made it appear as if I had come into the abode of evil
demons; and this delusion became complete when one shouted, and the rest
joining in prolonged their cry into a wild yell that echoed and reëchoed
again and again, coming back to us like the answering, remorseful shriek
of hundreds of evil spirits that were imprisoned forever deep within the
bowels of the mountain.
In the inner part of the larger cave I was directed to look up in a
certain direction, when soon a long, narrow band of yellow light gleamed
from an opening, and, darting into the cave, partially lighted up some
of the long stalactites that hung from the roof. Then came two bright
flames waving to and fro, which showed me the forms of two natives who
had climbed up some other chamber, and had come out through an aperture
far above us into the apartment where we were standing.
The Resident was travelling to inspect the coffee-gardens, and would
go back up the valley to Suka Rajah, the “Rajah’s Delight,” a large
coffee-garden in the ravine that leads up into the old crater of the
Sago. I therefore hired coolies to haul my bendy over the mountain to
Fort Van der Capellen, and thence to Padang Panjang, while I accompanied
the Resident and _controleur_ on horseback. After we had rested awhile
at a small summer-house, I continued on foot up the ravine as far as
coffee-trees are planted, a coolie from the valley following me, and
continually begging me to return, for fear we might be attacked by a
tiger. I told him to go back and let me proceed alone; but we were
already so far away that he did not dare to leave me. The whole interior
of this crater is covered with a dense forest, in which there are many
trees, showing that it has constantly remained inactive for many years,
and this is corroborated by what we know of the history of this part of
Menangkabau; for, when “the volcano” is spoken of, it is probable that
the Mérapi is meant, and not the Sago, on the one side, nor the Singalang
on the other.
As I could not reach to the bottom of the crater by following up the
ravine, I determined to try to ascend one of the ridges on its sides,
and possibly look down into it from an elevated point. That part of the
steep mountain-side was covered with tall grass, and the “tufa,” or red
clay, formed by the decomposition of the volcanic rock, ejected from
this vent, was very slippery after the recent shower. Yet, by grasping
the grass and small shrubbery, I made my way up nearly to the rim of
the crater, but did not get the unobstructed view I wished. To obtain
this, it is necessary to ascend the mountain on the north side. I was,
however, far more than repaid for my labor, by the magnificent landscape
spread out before me to the south and southeast. At my feet began the
Bua Valley, which, at a distance of ten or twelve miles, expanded into a
plain bordered on the west by the high mountains of the Barizan chain,
and on the east by that of the Padang Lawas, which yet farther on curved
round to the southwest and united with the Barizan in the gigantic peak
of Mount Talang. Winding to and fro down the Bua Valley, was occasionally
seen the silver surface of the Sinamu, and beside that and the other
streams were many broad overflowed sawas, which gave the valleys the
appearance of abounding with hundreds of little lakes. This is the
grandest and most comprehensive view I have enjoyed in Sumatra, and this
spot is well named “The Rajah’s Delight.” At an elevation of about four
thousand five hundred feet we found it very chilly by night, not so much
from the difference of temperature, as indicated by the thermometer, as
on account of a strong wind and a thick mist that enveloped us. This
coffee-garden is considered the best in this region; but the Resident
informs me that there are one or two at the same, or a somewhat greater
elevation, on the Mérapi, which are finer. The large crops raised here
are probably due to the elevation and to the soil, which has been formed
from decomposing volcanic rock, and enriched by the vegetable mould that
has accumulated for centuries.
_April 4th._—Continued on horseback along the southern flanks of Mount
Sago to its western side, when we came to the head of a valley bounded
by steep acclivities. A thick mist unfortunately concealed the view
from this point, the finest, it is said, in the whole region. A steep,
zigzag path brought us down to a small stream, and, ten miles in a
southwesterly direction, we came to the Resident’s house at Fort Van der
Capellen. The more direct and frequented road between Paya Kombo and
this place lies between Mount Sago and Mount Mérapi; and those two great
elevations are so separate that Tangjong Allam, the highest point on the
road, is only three thousand four hundred feet, about two hundred feet
above Fort de Kock. Four miles beyond, we passed through a village where
there is a waringin-tree of enormous dimensions. Its trunk is so large
that I found it required eight natives to embrace it by joining hands!
It is not, however, a single, compact trunk, like that of a pine, but is
composed of an irregular bundle of them bound together. Besides this,
there are three other great trunks which support the larger limbs, this
species of _Ficus_ being very closely allied to the banyan-tree of India.
Two miles west of this place, on the acclivity of one of the limestone
ranges already described, lies Pagaruyong, now a small kampong, but
in ancient times one of the capitals of the great Malay kingdom of
Menangkabau. Its early history only comes down to us in obscure legends.
One is that Noah and his “forty companions” in the ark discovered dry
land at Lankapura, near the present city of Palembang, by seeing a bird
which had escaped from their vessel alight at that place. From that spot
two brothers, Papati-si-batang (a name of Sanscrit origin), and Kayi
Tumangung (a name of Javanese origin), who were included in the forty
that had escaped the deluge, came to a mountain named Siguntang-guntang,
which was described as dividing Palembang from Jambi, and thence to
Priangan, a word in Javanese signifying “the land of wood-spirits,” or
fairies, and at present the name of a kampong on the road from this place
to Padang Panjang, and situated on the flanks of the Mérapi, near the
wooded region. There is little doubt that this kampong is the same as the
ancient one of the same name, for that was described as being “near the
great volcano.”
Another legend represents the founder of the Menangkabau empire to have
been Sang Sapurba (a name compounded of both Sanscrit and Javanese
words), who is also said to have come from Palembang, which we know was
a Javanese colony. The Javanese and Sanscrit origins of these names at
once suggest the probability that a larger part of the civilization
which rendered this empire so superior to all others in Sumatra, was not
indigenous, but introduced from Java, and at a period subsequent to the
introduction into that island of Hinduism and its accompanying Sanscrit
names from India. The names of many of the most remarkable mountains
and localities in this region are also found to be of similar origin,
and greatly strengthen this probability. The word Menangkabau itself
signifies in Javanese “the victory of the buffalo;” and, as it has been
one of the favorite sports of the Javanese from time immemorial to make
buffaloes fight with tigers, we may presume this locality acquired its
name from its being the frequent scene of such a bloody pastime.
When Europeans first arrived on the northern coast of the island, in
1509, this empire was evidently in its decline; and though the rajahs of
Achin, Pedir, and Pasé, acknowledged the sultan of this country as their
superior, they only paid him a small tribute, and were really independent
princes. The empire at that time included on the east coast the area
between the rivers of Palembang and Siak, and on the west coast from
Manjuta, near Indrapura, as far north as Singkel, at the mouth of the
river of that name, which is the outlet of the great Lake Aik Däu, in the
Batta Lands.[55] Afterward the Rajah of Achin, whose daughter the sultan
had married and slighted, took possession of the west coast, as far south
as Bencoolen. In 1613 his successor claimed no farther south than Padang,
and he actually governed no place south of Barus.
In 1680 the Sultan Alif died, leaving no heir. Dissensions at once arose,
and the empire was ultimately divided between three princes, who each
claimed to be the regular successor to the throne, and assumed all the
extravagant titles of the previous sultans. These princes severally
resided at Suruasa (on the Dutch maps Soeroeasso), which is situated two
miles south of Pagaruyong, on the banks of a small stream that flows
southward and empties into the Ombiling, at Pagaruyong (on the Dutch
maps Pager Oedjoeng), and at Sungtarap (in Dutch Soeng Tarap), a kampong
three miles north of Fort Van der Capellen. The Dutch treated the Prince
of Suruasa with the greatest distinction, but whether that place or
Pagaruyong was the more ancient site is undecided.
The first European who reached this region was Sir Stamford Raffles in
1818. He had the good fortune to discover at Suruasa two inscriptions
on stone in the Kawi, or ancient Javanese character, thereby proving
that the early civilization of Java was transplanted to this land. At
Pagaruyong he also discovered a Hindu image, “chastely and beautifully
carved, corresponding with those discovered in Java, and evidently the
work of similar artists and the object of a similar worship.” Thus the
ancient religion, as well as the ancient language of Java, was adopted to
some extent by the early inhabitants of this country.
There appears to be no reason why we should suppose that Mohammedanism
was first introduced into Java and thence brought to this land, as there
is in the case of the Hinduism that prevailed here centuries ago. We may
rather infer that soon after that religion had found followers on the
north coast, its teachers were not long in making their way into the
Menangkabau country, the influence and reputed wealth of which must have
been pictured to them in the most glowing colors as soon as they first
landed at Achin.
About the year 1807 three native pilgrims returned from Mecca to their
homes on the shores of Lake Korinchi, which is situated about thirty
miles southeast of the great mountain of Talang. As they had just left
the grave of their prophet, they burned with zeal to discipline their
lax countrymen, and to make them conform more nearly to the rigid
requirements of the faith they had pretended to adopt. Believing, like
true Mohammedans, that no argument is so convincing as the sword, these
zealots began a warfare as well as a reform. This religion is the more
remarkable, because, so far as we know, it is the only one that has ever
been originated in the whole archipelago.
In 1837 these religious conquerors came into collision with the Dutch,
and, after a severe contest of three years, were completely conquered,
and not a vestige of their rigorous laws can now be discerned. Such
harsh measures were evidently distasteful to the lax Malays, and now on
all market-days and festive occasions they array themselves in as gaudy
colors as they did before the zealous pilgrims of Korinchi came back from
Mecca.
The skilful work of these people in silver and gold has already been
described. This they did not learn from foreigners, but have practised
for ages. They were also very skilful in the manufacture of kris-blades,
cannon, and matchlocks—mining, smelting, and forging the iron entirely
themselves. Marsden says their principal mine was at Padang Luar,
probably Padang Luwa or Lawa, a kampong on the level land near Fort de
Kock, and about a mile north of that place. It was taken to Selimpuwong
(on the Dutch maps Salimpawang), a small kampong between Mount Mérapi
and Mount Sago, on the road leading northward from this place to Paya
Kombo, where it was smelted and manufactured. Their cannon were often
mentioned by the earliest Portuguese navigators. They were manufactured
here and sold to the more warlike nations at the northern end of the
island. The barrels of their matchlocks were made by winding a flat bar
of iron spirally around a circular rod and welding it into one piece;
and Marsden, who probably saw some of these guns, describes them as
being of the “justest bore.” They also manufactured an inferior kind of
powder. These arts they may have learned from the Chinese, who practised
them long before they were known in Europe, and who probably came down
the coast to the Malay peninsula and this island centuries before the
Portuguese sailed around the Cape of Good Hope.
At present, all the natives, except the militia, within the limits of
the Dutch territory, are absolutely forbidden by the Dutch Government to
have powder or fire-arms of any description in their possession, and the
penalty against importing them and selling them to the natives is very
severe. Without such a law, no foreigner would be safe in any part of
the archipelago. The iron that these people now use appears to be wholly
imported from Europe. They need little except for knives, and the steel
for those comes mostly from Padang.
This evening the guard reported a fire in a neighboring kampong, and
a bright light was seen some miles off on the flanks of the Mérapi.
Although I have now been in the archipelago nearly a year, it is the
first fire I have seen; and this appears the more remarkable, when we
consider the highly inflammable materials of which the native huts are
built, the walls being of bamboo and the roof of atap. However, when
they do take fire, they blaze up and disappear like a bundle of straw.
_April 6th._—The Resident gave me a span of horses and a covered carriage
to drive to the banks of a stream flowing to the southeast, and a servant
followed with another horse for me to use in fording the stream and
continuing my journey southward to the southern end of Lake Sinkara.
There has been much rain during the past week, and coming to the river we
found it so swollen and rapid that the moment a horse or man stepped into
it he would certainly be swept away. I was, therefore, obliged to follow
up its course a mile or two, till I came to a village where the natives
had made a rude bridge between two high trees that leaned toward each
other from the opposite banks of the torrent. The bottom of the bridge
consisted of only two large bamboos, but there was another on either side
to enable one to maintain his balance while crossing. No place could be
found where it was possible to bring over the horse, and I was obliged,
therefore, to send him back and finish that day’s journey of twenty miles
on foot.
After crossing the stream I turned to the eastward, and, passing over a
number of sharp ridges, came down to the road we had left. This conducted
us along a small, rapid river, which we found to be the Ombiling, the
only outlet of Lake Sinkara. At several places I noticed large wheels
for raising water to inundate the rice-fields. On the rim were fastened
pieces of bamboo at a slight angle, which filled as they touched the
surface of the stream and poured out their contents when they came to
the highest point. In all particulars these wheels are exactly like
those used in China for the same purpose, and perhaps were introduced by
immigrants or merchants from that land. We crossed the foaming Ombiling
on a bridge near where the lake pours out its surplus water down a ravine
and forms that stream. Before the Dutch came up into this region the
natives had made a suspension bridge here, near Samawang, similar to the
one I crossed over the Batang Taroh. Governor Raffles has described it
in his memoirs, and has also noticed the water-wheels just described,
so that they must have been in use for a long time, and could not have
been introduced by Europeans nor by the Chinamen who have established
themselves at the principal places in this region since it became subject
to the Dutch.
Mid-day was passed when I reached the kampong of Samawang, near the
bridge, and I was so worn out with my long walk over the mountains and
fording the swollen streams, that I was glad to crawl into a little dirty
hut and beg an old Malay woman to cook me a little rice, for I had yet
ten miles farther to go, and pouring showers frequently came over the
lake. My repast consisted of rice, a smoked fish, a few grains of coarse
salt and some red pepper ground up together between two flat stones. As I
satisfied my hunger, I could but contrast my simple meal with the royal
feasts I had been taking with the governor at his residence at Padang
less than a week before, but, as Shakespeare says, “Hunger is the best
sauce,” and I enjoyed my hard fare more than many pampered princes do the
choicest viands. From this place there is a well-built road along the
eastern side of the lake to the kampong of Sinkara on the southern shore.
The lake is ten miles long and about three miles wide. It is parallel
to the Barizan chain in this place, and extends in a northwest and
southeast direction. Its surface is about seventeen hundred feet above
the sea. Its most remarkable character is its great depth at one place,
near the cleft of Paningahan, where the plummet runs down eleven hundred
and eighty-two feet, nearly a quarter of a mile, so that its bottom, at
that spot, is only about five hundred feet above the level of the sea.
West of the Sinkara is the great Barizan chain, with its acclivities
rising immediately from the margin of the lake, and its peaks generally
attaining an elevation of fifteen hundred feet above the lake, or three
thousand two hundred feet above the sea. On the eastern side, and on
the northern end of the lake, are hills of less than half that height,
mostly composed of syenite. The Barizan chain, as shown in the cleft of
Paningahan, is composed of chloritic schists interstratified with marble,
and overlaid in most places with lava, pumice-stone, and volcanic sand or
ashes. These strata of schists and limestone undoubtedly rest on gigantic
rocks, for such are found outcropping on the opposite or coast side of
the range. The basin of Lake Sinkara, therefore, occurs where a great
fault has taken place. Five miles east of the lake, and a short distance
south of the kampong Pasilian, is Mount Sibumbun, which, as well as the
cleft of Paningahan, has been carefully examined by Mr. Van Dijk, of the
Government Mining Corps, on account of the copper-mines they contain.
Sibumbun is a peak of greenstone rising out of syenite. Westward, one
passes from the granite into marble, and then on to a sandstone of a late
formation, which contains layers of coal that is probably of the same age
as that I saw at Siboga.
The whole geological history of this part of Sumatra may be summed up
as follows: On the syenite and granite, layers of mud and coral were
deposited; then the whole was raised and plicated; and after this period
was deposited the sandstone, the strata of which we have already noted
as being unconformable to the rocks on which they rest, and more nearly
horizontal. If, as Mr. Van Dijk thinks, and is very probable, the marble
in the cleft of Padang Pangjang is formed from corals, at least not older
than the eocene age, it follows that the mountain-ranges of Sumatra have
been formed within a comparatively recent period. The process of covering
these strata by lava, pumice-stone, and volcanic sand and ashes, has been
going on since historic time.
The most remarkable thing in this kampong of Sinkara, is the _bali_,
or town-hall. Either end, on the inside, is built up into a series of
successive platforms, one rising over the other. On the outside these
elevated ends resemble the stern of the old three and four decked
frigates which the Dutch generally used when they first became masters
of these seas, and such as can yet be seen used as hulks in the ports
of the British colonies. The exterior of the _bali_, as well as the
better private houses, are painted red, and ornamented with flowers and
scroll-work in white and black.
While at this village I noticed a native leading a large dog-like monkey
from place to place. On inquiring, the servants told me that he was
trained to pick off cocoa-nuts from the bunches in the trees, but I
doubted whether he could know what ones to select, and therefore watched
him myself. His master brought him to the foot of the tree, gave a
peculiar jerk to the rope, and at once he began to climb up. Reaching
the top, he seated himself on the base of a leaf and immediately began
wrenching off those nuts that were fully grown, by partially twisting
them. After he had taken off all the ripe nuts on one side of the tree,
he went round to the opposite side and broke off the ripe ones there
also, without once attempting to pull off those that were partly grown.
This selecting the ripe nuts from the large clusters seemed to be the
result of his own instinct, and not of any signal from his master, so far
as I could detect.
The shore at the southern end of the lake is very low and marshy, and
wholly devoted to rice-fields. Here were enormous flocks of herons,
that made the sawas perfectly white wherever they alighted. Over these
low lands is built the road that leads to Solok, six miles distant in a
southeasterly direction.
_April 8th._—Rode to Solok. On the way passed twenty-seven women going
to the burial of a native prince. Their costume was peculiar, even in
this land. It consisted simply of the common sarong open at the right
hip, and fastened at the waist to a narrow scarf about the neck, and a
turban around the head. About three miles from Sinkara, the way passed
over a slight elevation, and again I came down into a low land which was
one great fertile sawa. Rice here is abundant and very cheap, and the
Resident states that many of the natives prefer to use that which is at
least a year old, and that a few have small quantities which they have
kept for several years. The kernels of this rice are smaller than those
of the kind grown in our Carolinas; but that has been tried here, and
found to yield less by a considerable number of pounds per acre than the
native variety.
This region was known, before it was conquered by the Dutch, as the Tiga
Blas country, or the country of the “Thirteen Confederate Towns,” because
the thirteen villages in this vicinity had entered into a compact to
afford mutual aid and protection. In a similar manner all the territory
that previously belonged to the single kingdom of Menangkabau was divided
up into petty confederacies when the Dutch conquered the country, and the
several areas thus ruled are now marked on the Dutch maps as the district
of the “Five, Ten, or Twenty Kottas.” At present, though most of the
natives live in villages, many houses are scattered over the cultivated
lands. Before the conquest they all lived in villages that were generally
surrounded by a stockade and a thick hedge of bamboos. The Dutch generals
who subdued them destroyed these rude fortifications, that the villagers
might have no defences and less facilities to revolt.
Many of the kampongs in this region were then situated on the hills, but
have since been removed to the plains for the same reason. Near Solok,
the inner range that forms the western buttress of the plateau rises up
above the surrounding plain like a great wall, that curves round to the
west and unites with the Barizan chain in the great Talang, which attains
an elevation of about eight thousand five hundred feet. A short distance
north of it is a cleft, through which the Resident is now building a road
to Padang. About twelve miles to the north are two other clefts, near
Paningahan, formed by the throes of a volcano near that kampong; and
farther north is the cleft at Padang Panjang, all four occurring within
less than thirty miles in a straight line.
On the southeastern declivity of Talang, at the height of six thousand
feet, is a small tarn, whence issues the Solok River, that empties into
Lake Sinkara, the source of the Ombiling, which curves to the east and
southeast, and unites with the Sinamu, that we have already traced from
Paya Kombo down the Bua Valley. From their juncture begins the Indragiri,
which, pursuing an easterly course over the low lands that form the
eastern side of Sumatra, empties into the Java Sea nearly opposite the
Linga Islands. This tarn, therefore, may be regarded as the source of the
Indragiri; and within a circle of half a mile radius rise three streams
that flow in wholly different directions—two, the Indragiri and Jambi,
emptying into the Java Sea, and the third mingling its waters with those
of the Indian Ocean.
_April 10th._—Rode on horseback from Sinkara north to Samawang, at the
outlet of the lake, and thence continued on foot in a westerly direction
to Batu Bragon, at its northern end, and in a northwesterly direction to
Padang Panjang.
On the west side of the lake, from the mouths of the deep ravines,
extend bands of naked stones, which form, as it were, paved highways—the
highways, indeed, that Nature has made for man to go up among her sublime
mountains.
Between Samawang and Batu Bragon I crossed several beds of these dry
torrents. The boulders in them were mostly of lava, and rapidly falling
apart into a coarse, sharp-edged shingle. Fragments of syenite also
appeared. These stones had been washed down from the neighboring hills,
and were piled up in long winrows, as if they had been as light as
chaff—so great is the transporting power of these mountain torrents, that
only exist during the heavy rains.
From Batu Bragon the road ascended the flanks of the Mérapi, which are
under the highest state of cultivation—most of them terraced for rice,
but some sugar-cane is also raised here. To press out its juices, two
cylinders of wood are placed perpendicularly in a wooden frame, and
several spirals are made on each, so that they will exactly fit into each
other like the cogs of two wheels. One of these is turned round by a long
lever drawn by a buffalo, the other cylinder revolving at the same time,
but, of course, in the opposite direction. The stalks of the cane are put
in on one side, and the juices are gathered in a large vessel beneath.
This they boil into a syrup, and, some say, crystallize it into sugar.
Again and again, as I was ascending to Padang Panjang, I turned to
enjoy once more the magnificent view to the south. Near me were green
rice-fields waving in the sunshine, and far beneath these was the large
blue lake surrounded by high dark mountains; on their lofty peaks were
gathering black clouds, from which occasionally a heavy, suppressed
muttering rolled along, betokening the severity of the coming storm. The
next day I returned to the governor’s residence at Padang.
Some time before I came from Java, a Malay prau, in the employ of
Chinamen, had visited the Pagi Islands, to purchase cocoa-nut oil and
tortoise-shell, and had induced a man and woman, represented in the
accompanying illustration, to go with them to Padang. The sarong of the
woman was made of the leaves of the cocoa-nut palm and banana, torn up
into strips, and fastened at one end to a long rattan, which was wound
several times round the waist. When these leaves are green, they form a
respectable covering, but, in the hot, tropical sun, they soon wither
into mere strings. For a baju a similar garment of banana-leaves was
used. The headdress was yet more peculiar. It was made of banana-leaves,
folded, as shown in the engraving, into the form of a cocked hat. This
is usually ornamented at the top with a tuft of grass, and it is always
worn crosswise. The only clothing of the man was a strip of bark, about
four inches wide, and ten or twelve feet long, passing round the waist,
and covering the loins, as shown in the cut. Boys go entirely naked
until they are about eight years old. Neither the man nor woman cared
for rice, but they were fond of bread, though they had never seen any
before. Their usual food at home was sago, boiled in salt water, and
covered with grated cocoa-nut. When the governor gave the man a fowl, and
asked him to cook it after his own fashion, he built a small fire in the
back yard, and, as soon as it was well blazing, tied the bird’s wings
and legs, and thrust it alive into the flames, in order to burn off the
feathers. The governor provided them with many presents for their rajahs
and friends, and, at the first opportunity, sent them back to their
islands. Soon after their return, another native came to Padang in the
same way. He was there when I came back from the interior, and, at the
governor’s invitation, he made us a visit. He was of the pure Malay type,
not differing to a marked degree in stature or general proportions from
the Sumatran Malays who came with him. His breast and abdomen and the
backs of his hands were tattooed. Both sexes are ornamented in this way.
The process is begun when they are six or seven years old, and continued
at intervals for a long time. This man said that each village had a style
of its own. It is done with a sharpened copper wire, and the substance
pricked in is said to be the smoke of a gum, mingled with the sap of
some plant, as the juice of the sugar-cane. He had no idea of the origin
of this custom; nor of its use, except to distinguish the people of the
various villages.
[Illustration: NATIVES OF THE PAGI ISLANDS.]
Some time before I set out on my last journey, the governor had offered
to give me a small gun-boat, somewhat larger than a pilot-boat, but
manned with nearly twenty Malays, to go off to these islands, taking
this man, who had learned some Malay during his stay at Padang with me as
an interpreter. An unexpected event, however, made it necessary to send
that boat up the coast, and it would be some days before another would
come; so I concluded to take the mail-boat for Bencoolen, and commence
a long journey directly across the island to Palembang, and, reaching
Banca, go up to Singapore on the steamer which touches at that island
while on her way to Singapore from Batavia.
While travelling in the interior of Sumatra, we have seen that the
mountains, which extend from one end of the island to the other, range
themselves, generally, in two parallel chains, that wall in a long,
narrow plateau. The island of Engano is the summit of the southeastern
peak in another similar mountain-chain, extending in a northwesterly
direction, parallel to those already described. After sinking beneath the
level of the sea, this chain reappears in the Pagi, Mantawi, and Batu
groups, Pulo Nias, Pulo Babi, and the Cocos Islands.
The plateau in the interior, we have also found, is divided into a
number of separate valleys, by transverse ranges, which yoke together
the principal chains. In a similar manner transverse ranges appear in
Pulo Kapini, one of the Batu Islands, and in the Banyak Islands. These
transverse ranges are seen also in the high and well-marked promontories
which jut out from the Barizan, or coast-chain of Sumatra, at those
places. A third projecting part of the coast is seen at Indrapura. As
the valleys in the interior become plateaus, when we compare them to
the present sea-level, so is the long, narrow area between these islands
and Sumatra a plateau, when compared with the bed of the unfathomable
ocean outside of them. In the same manner, then, as the Kurile and Japan
Islands, the Lew-Chews, and Formosa, are but the more elevated parts of
a great mountain-chain that rises on the eastern edge of the continent
of Asia, so these islands are only the tops of another great chain
which rises on a part of the southern border of the same continent, and
indicates where the wide and deep basin of the Indian Ocean commences.