Being an Account of an Ascent of Mount Ophir in Malaya, by His
Excellency, the Tuan Hakim of Maur, and the Writer
"And they came to Ophir, and fetched
from thence gold, four hundred and
twenty talents, and brought it to
King Solomon."--1 Kings IX. 28.
"For the King's ships went to Tarshish
with the servants of Huram; every
three years once came the ships of
Tarshish, bringing gold and silver,
ivory, and apes, and peacocks."
--2 Chronicles VIII. 21.
The rose tints of a tropical sunrise had broken through the heavy
bamboo chicks that jealously guarded the rapidly fleeting half-lights
of my room: there came three deferential taps at the door, and the
smiling, olive-tinted face of Ah Minga appeared at the opening. "Tabek,
Tuan," he saluted, as he raised the mosquito curtains, and placed a
tray of tea and mangosteens on a table by my side.
I sprang to the floor and across the heavily rugged room, and pulled
up the offending chick.
Across the palace grounds, fresh from their morning bath, across the
broad river Maur, for the nonce black in the shadow of the jungle,
across the gilded tops of the jungle, forty miles away as the crow
flies, rested the serrated peak of Mount Ophir.
Directly below me, a soldier in a uniform of duck and a rimless cap
with a gold band was pacing up and down the gravelled walk. A little
farther on a bevy of women and children were bathing in the tepid
waters of the river, while a man in an unpainted prau was keeping
watch for a possible crocodile.
The sun was rising directly behind the peak, a ball of liquid fire. I
drew in a long draught of the warm morning air.
A Malay in a soft silken sarong, which fell about his legs like a
woman's skirt, stood in the door.
"The Prince is awaiting the Tuan Consul," he said, with a graceful
salaam.
I hurriedly donned my suit of white, drank my tea, and followed him
along the grand salon, down a broad flight of steps, through a marble
court, and into the dining room.
A great white punkah was lazily vibrating over the heavy rosewood
table.
Unko Sulliman, the Prince Governor of Maur, came forward and gave me
his hand.
"It will be a hard climb and a hard day's work?" he said, pleasantly,
in good English.
"I have done worse," I answered.
"But not under a Malayan sky. However, it is your wish, and his
Highness the Sultan has granted it. The Chief Justice will accompany
you, and now you had better start before the sun is high."
I turned to the Tuan Hakim, or Chief Justice, with a gesture of
unconcealed pleasure. We had shot crocodiles the day previous along
the banks of the Maur, and I had found him a good shot and an agreeable
companion. While not as handsome a man or as striking a representative
of his race as the Unko, or Prince, he was a scholar, and could aid me
more than any one else in my exploration of the ancient gold workings
about the base of the famous mountain.
The launch was awaiting us at the pier in front of the Residency,
and we took our places in the bow, and arranged our guns as our
half-naked crew worked her slowly into mid-stream. We hoped to get
some snap shots at the crocodiles that lined the banks as we steamed
swiftly up the river.
"I am inclined to agree with Josephus, that yonder mountain is the
Mount Ophir of Solomon, when I look at this river. It is equal to
our Hudson, and could easily carry ships twice the size of any he or
Huram ever floated."
The Tuan Hakim nodded, and kept his eyes fastened on the nearest shore.
The course of the great river seemed to stretch out before us in an
endless line of majestic circles. From shore to shore, at high tide,
it was a mile in breadth, and so deep that his Highness's yacht, the
Pante, of three hundred tons' burden, could run up full fifty miles.
For a moment we caught a view of the wooden minarets of the little
mosque at Bander Maharani; then we dashed on into the heart of another
great curve.
"What is it your Koran says that the wise king's ships brought from
Ophir?" he asked, never taking his eyes off the mangrove-bound shore.
"Gold and silver, ivory, and apes, and peacocks," I replied, quoting
literally from Chronicles.
"Biak (good)! Gold and silver we have plenty. Your English companies
are taking it out of the land by the pikul In the old days, before the
Portuguese came, the handle of every warrior's kris was of ivory. Now
our elephants are dying before the rifle of the sportsman. Soon our
jungles will know them no more. Apes--" and he pointed at the top of
a giant marbow, where a troop of silver wah-wahs were swinging from
limb to limb. "The glorious argus pheasant you have seen."
"Boyah, Tuan!" the man at the wheel sung out.
I grasped my Winchester Express. Just ahead, half hidden by a black
labyrinth of scaffold-like mangrove roots, lay the huge, mud-covered
form of a crocodile.
The Tuan Hakim raised his hand, and the launch slowed down and ran
in under the bank.
"Now!" he whispered, and our rifles exploded in unison.
A great splash of slimy red mud fell full on the front of my spotless
white jacket, another struck in the water close by the side of the
boat. The wounded crocodile had sprung into the air from his tail up,
and dropped back into his wallow with a resounding thud. In another
instant he was off the slippery bank and within the security of the
mud-colored water.
I saw that my companion had more to tell me, possibly a native
tradition of the fabled riches that were concealed within the heart
of the historic mountain that was for the moment framed in a setting
of green, directly ahead. I put a fresh cartridge into the barrel,
and leaned back in my deck chair.
The Chief Justice extracted a manila from his case and handed it to me.
"In the days when Tunku Ali III. ruled over Maur, from Malacca to
the confines of Johore, the Portuguese came, and Albuquerque with
his ships of war and soldiers in iron armor sought to wrest from our
people their cities and their riches. My ancestor was a dato,--our
laksamana, high admiral, of his Highness's fleet. His galley was built
of burnished teak, the lining of its cabin was of sandalwood,--algum
wood your Koran calls it,--and the turret in its stern was covered
with plates of solid gold. You will find record of it to this day in
the state papers of Acheen.
"For fully a hundred and forty years did the Emperor of Johore
and his valiant allies, the King of Acheen and the Sultan of Maur,
seek to retake Malacca from the Portuguese. The Dato Mamat was the
last laksamana of the fleet. With him died the war and the secret of
Mount Ophir."
"The secret!" I questioned, as the Tuan Hakim paused.
"For one hundred and forty years were we at war with the
invaders. Three generations were born and died with arms in their
hands. No work was done on the land, save by women and children. Still
we had plenty of gold with which to fit out fleet after fleet, with
which to arm our soldiers and feed our people.
"It came from yonder mountain. Not even the Sultan knew its
hiding-place. That was only trusted to one family, and handed from
father to son by word of mouth.
"Long before the days of Solomon the Wise did my family hold that
secret for the state. It was one of them that gave the four hundred
and twenty talents to the laksamana of Huram's fleet. Your Koran has
made record of the gift. He did not know from whence it came. He asked,
and we told him from the Ophirs, which means from the gold mines. Then
it was that he called the mountain that raised its head four thousand
feet above the sea, and was the first object his lookout saw as they
neared the coast, 'Mount Ophir.'
"No man, however so bold, ventured within a radius of fifteen miles
around the foot of the mountain. It was haunted by evil spirits. No
man save the laksamana, who went twice a year and brought away to his
prau, which was moored on the bank of the Maur thirty miles from the
mountains, ten great loads of pure gold, each time over one hundred
bugels. I know not as to the truth, but it is told that there was
one tribe consecrated to the mining of the gold, not one of whom had
ever been outside the shadow of the mountain: that when the great
admiral ceased to come, they blocked up the entrance to the mines,
planted trees about the spot, and waited. One after another died,
until not one was left.
"Such is the tradition of my family, Tuan."
"But the great laksamana?" I asked. "I know of the ancient riches of
Malacca. Barbosa tells us that gold was so common that it was reckoned
by the bhar of four hundred weight."
My companion contemplated the end of his manila. "Do you know how
died his Highness, Montezuma of Mexico, Tuan?"