In the island of Mauritius, in the Southern Ocean, stands Pieter Both
(or Peter Botte), one of the strangest shaped and most inaccessible
mountains in the world. From the sea it is most calculated to impress
beholders. Its quaint shape towers above the rugged mountain mass which
again dominates over Port-Louis; and its still quainter name dates from
so far back as 1616, when Pieter Both d'Amersfort, a Dutch admiral, or
General of the Sea, as he is described in the records, happening to
be shipwrecked on the island, was perpetuated by name in the mountain
which cast its shadow across his drowned body.
The travellers' tales which are heard beyond the seas of the ascents
of a mountain, insignificant in size, but by reputation ranking with
monarchs of Alpine celebrity, have contributed to lend a grandeur and
a mystery to Pieter Both in the imaginations of those who approach him
for the first time. Though various ascents have been made from time
to time (one of which was described in this _Journal_ as far back as
1834), that made in June 1876 by a party of eleven seems to have been
of special interest, as the following narrative, from the pen of one of
the party, will shew. His story runs as follows:
An Indian, Deebee by name, a carriole driver by calling, by repeated
ascents has made himself so much at home on the mountain as to be
able to arrange a system of ropes and rough rope-ladders by which
any one with a good head and fairly strong muscles can reach the top
with comparative ease. Deebee is a short square-built East Indian,
with a pock-marked face, whose dress on the last time I saw him was a
soldier's old tunic, and a lady's 'cloud,' also old, about his head
and chin. This worthy, after the preliminaries are settled with the
leader of the expedition, purchases a coil of two and a half inch
Manilla rope, arms himself with a wonderfully battered horse-pistol
and a broken cutlass, takes into his confidence sundry others of his
countrymen, and starts up the mountain the day previous to that on
which the ascent is to be attempted. Upon the 'Shoulder,' which I
shall presently notice, he has built a small hut, where he and his band
sleep; to me, who saw it empty, it seemed just capable of holding half
one man, with the contingency that his other half would dangle over
a precipice some hundreds of feet high. In the morning the ropes are
fixed; the 'Ladder Rock' being ascended by means of a pole; the pistol
is used to fire a line over the head, by which the rope is gradually
hauled up; the cutlass is for cutting the rounds of the rope-ladders
from the bushes; so that if all goes well, when the party gather on
the 'Shoulder' they will see above them the whole apparatus, strangely
suggestive of the Old Bailey on hanging mornings, with Deebee and his
crew clinging thereto--a black Jack Ketch to perfection.
Pieter Both itself is one of a score of peaks situated in the rim of
a gigantic crater, which can be traced at the present day from itself
on the north to the Black River Mountains on the south, a distance of
more than twenty miles. A mountain called 'The Pouce,' so called from
the resemblance of its peak to a man's thumb, lies immediately above
Port-Louis, and forms a well-known feature in the views of that town.
After the Pouce, which is thirty-six feet only lower than Pieter Both,
the crater-wall becomes a wall indeed. Its northern face falls down in
sheer precipice to Pamplemousses, two thousand feet below its crest;
the reverse, no less steep, facing the valley of Moka, green with
sugar-canes, and fifteen hundred feet below. This wall is broken into
several peaks, of which the last is Pieter Both, having an elevation
above sea-level of two thousand six hundred and ninety-eight feet,
according to a recent survey made by the colonial surveyor.
At La Laura, a sugar-mill about ten miles from Port-Louis, the final
arrangements are made for carrying up the provisions and other
impedimenta, including on this occasion a photographic apparatus; and
that satisfactorily arranged, comes a trudge of a mile along a gently
ascending cane-road.
As the path nears the woods we find their margin impervious with the
matted undergrowth; the bright green of the wild raspberry, with its
hairy fruit, and long straggling branches armed with fearful thorns;
the scarlet and orange blossoms of the _Lantana_; while the snowy white
and pink blossoms of the many other species of underwood crowd in
beneath the shade of the taller trees in a many coloured parterre.
Side by side with many other curious varieties of trees will be noted
the fluted stem and broad spreading top of the mighty Sambalacoque,
now fast disappearing under the axe. On either side of the road which
winds along this forest line are the tall sugar-canes, like walls high
above our heads, the silver-gray blossoms waving in the softly blowing
trade-wind; the rain-drops hanging from their leaves, falling in
showers, and giving a none too welcome hint of slippery work a little
higher up. Between Pieter Both and the mountain ridge that joins him
with the Pouce is a steep gorge, wide at the base, narrowing gradually
till it ends abruptly in a gap some fifteen yards across, and about
four hundred feet below the summit. You can climb up to this gap, but
it requires to be cautiously approached, for on looking over its edge,
sharp and knife-like, you will find yourself looking down a precipice
of naked rock some two thousand feet deep. The lookout is grand beyond
description, and you will make out Port-Louis harbour, looking about
the size of the Round Pond in Kensington Gardens, and Pamplemousses
Church a dot immediately below you.
The path ends with the canes; and that which we follow after leaving
them we make for ourselves. But upwards is the right way; you can't go
wrong, for the ravine is like a funnel cut in half, and the easiest
slope lies in its centre, to which we all gravitate by a sort of
'natural selection.' The forest is dense under foot and overhead;
perhaps it is as well that it is, for without clinging on to the
branches and tree-stems, and swinging bodily by them up bad places, the
lower part would be as difficult as the upper. The forest primeval,
silent and gloomy, shuts out the light, and the air feels hot and
stifling. Dead trunks lie rotting on all sides, mere touchwood many
of them, resenting our footsteps by a cloud of dust; giving homes to
a variety of lovely ferns, including the hartstongue, which grows in
tufts on the dead-wood wherever its roots can penetrate. Everywhere
strange forms meet the eye, as if Nature in a frolic had run wild to
form them. From the branches depend long trails of 'lianes,' ropes
that twist and twine and squeeze the life out of the trees they fasten
on. Orchids are here also, fleshy leaved, with no apparent roots; and
black shapeless masses perched in the higher tree forks, the nests of
the destructive white ant. Mosses clothe the ground with an emerald
tapestry, beautiful to the eye, but treacherous and squelching full of
water under foot. Everywhere is a rank garden of luxuriant dripping
vegetation, which, speaking as to comfort, we could have done without.
After a stiff climb, the funnel narrows visibly, and we get into the
central watercourse, where there is free space to breathe and less
vegetation. The path is rough, macadamised by gigantic boulders,
moss-grown and slippery, standing at incalculable angles, very tedious
to clamber over, amongst which a sharp lookout has to be kept to
preserve our poor dear shins. Gradually the trees, hitherto a green
arcade overhead, thin away, and the watercourse emerges into a steep
grassy slope, growing steeper at every step. Above, facing us, is the
gap spoken of already; on the left is the mountain ridge; on the right
rises old Pieter Both, cold, gray, and menacing--and a long way up. The
ravine has narrowed to some fifteen yards; here and there is a scrubby
bush. The water-course is now the only way possible to climb by, and in
two places there are in it rocks twelve feet high standing straight up,
which have to be clambered over somehow.
Above, on the right, is the 'Shoulder,' a narrow projection about
twenty yards long, and two or three wide, on which breakfast is to
be eaten and preparations made for the final climb. To reach this
'Shoulder' appears a sufficient task from where we are; beyond it rises
a smooth perpendicular cone, without flaw or crack, mid air, apparently
impossible. Yet as we bend back our heads and say so, out of one side
far up, springs a small figure; and the word 'impossible' is wiped out
of our dictionaries when we behold that a 'black man and a brother' has
essayed the task. Up to the 'Shoulder' it is all hands and feet; beyond
that there is nothing for it but rope. Viewed from a distance, the
'Shoulder' forms the knees of the sitting figure which the mountain is
said to resemble. From many points the resemblance to the statue of Her
Majesty at the London Royal Exchange is ludicrously exact.
When the top of the grass slope is reached, there is a narrow band of
turf, dotted with half-a-dozen scrub bushes of a foot or little more
high. This band leads off horizontally to the right, and is the only
possible way to the 'Shoulder.' A very bad way indeed it is. From
below it looks nothing but a strip of green ribbon stretched across
the middle of a rocky face, black and green and slimy as ever earth,
air, and water put together have concocted to puzzle mountaineers. In
truth it is little better than it looks. There are toe-holes to stick
your boots into as you walk with your face to the wall; and here and
there a shrub to let you feel something between your fingers, besides a
bunch of dead damp grass to save you from eternity. The whole passage
is oozing with sludge and water, very slippery, and the grass looks
utterly rotten and unreliable.
This track, which is about one hundred yards in length, lands you a
little below the 'Shoulder;' then a dozen yards' stiff steep climb
and you stand upon it--perhaps sit at first--for a yard farther on
across it is space, sheer awful space, which to look down till you have
got your breath is neither wise nor pleasant. You soon get used to
the feeling; but it is a little startling just at first to find that
this promised landing-place where breakfast is to be served ends in
nothing, just three feet beyond the baskets that contain the provender.
When you have got your breath, the first thing to look at is the great
bare cone immediately above and the dangling rope up which your road
must lie. Your eye takes it all in at a glance, and that first glance
is not promising. But breakfast puts a better construction on the
onward journey; and by the time we have made acquaintance with the
Oxford sausages and Australian sheep's tongues, we begin to scramble
about quite merrily, and doff boots, coats, and hats for the task with
as jaunty a grace as did my Lord Russell on Tower Hill.
The summit of Pieter Both is a cone of sugar-loaf form, compressed at
the sides, that nearest the 'Shoulder' having a slight bulge, without
which the ascent would be certainly impracticable. From the 'Shoulder,'
which is covered with short grass and wind-scarred scrub, a ridge some
three yards wide runs up to the foot of the 'Ladder Rock.' This ridge,
which narrows as it goes up, is composed of rock-fractures firmly
cemented together, and is to all appearance a great buttress supporting
the cone. Up this you climb, hands and knees, without requiring a rope.
The buttress comes to an abrupt end at the foot of a huge cube of rock,
flat-sided and perpendicular, which stands bolt upright, and bars all
further climbing without mechanical aid.
This is the 'Ladder Rock,' and is between fifty and sixty feet in
absolute perpendicular height, its breadth being less than twenty feet.
Running down its centre is a crack, without which the difficulty of
climbing it would have been greatly aggravated, if not insurmountable.
Against the face of the 'Ladder Rock' hangs a rope, the end
disappearing over the upper edge where it has been made fast; the climb
up it being made easier by a rough rope-ladder, which takes you up some
dozen feet, to where the crack is sufficiently wide to admit your toes;
that reached, grasping the rope with every one of your ten fingers,
and squeezing as many of your toes into the crevice as you can, you
must trust to your muscles and swing yourself up. The top of this rock
reached, you are glad to sit or lie down upon a second ridge like the
lower one, but much steeper and narrower; so narrow that in climbing up
it, still with the rope tightly grasped, you sit astride it, your legs
dangling over the sides, where it is better not to let your eyes follow
unless the head that owns them is of the steadiest. This ridge has
been christened 'The Saddle,' and is made up of broken rock cemented
together with lava. Here and there are tufts of grass, with bosses
of the silver-leaved 'everlastings,' wind-torn and ragged, and other
plants. The 'everlastings' shew brightly against the cold gray rocks,
and tempt many of the party to pluck them to adorn their hats when they
get them; which just now is somewhat doubtful, as the slightest slip
may be fatal. This dreadful 'Saddle' is said to have once vanquished
two aspirants; one of them, conscious that he had 'lost his head,' lay
flat along the ridge, allowing the man who came to his rescue to climb
over his body, a ticklish bit of mid-aërial gymnastics, which happily
came off successfully.
The 'Saddle' rises at a steep angle, say the steep roof of a house,
and ends at another 'facer;' a huge rounded rock perhaps ten feet
high standing straight up across the way, the way now having narrowed
to a blunt-knife edge. This is the 'Saddle Rock,' and is the
nastiest-looking and most dangerous place in the ascent. The 'Saddle
Rock' must either be swarmed up or circumvented by stretching round
its left side; for both experiments a rope is needed, and both are
a trifle delicate. This time the rope went round; and the thread
which disappeared past the smooth slippery face, out over the ghastly
precipice, that fell down sheer into Pamplemousses, was not inviting.
To get round you have to sidle up to the base of the rock, holding the
tightly stretched rope level with your head, and push on your feet
inch by inch till your toes rest on the outermost knob of rock. You
must be quite sure that their hold is good before you slip your hands
round the corner, letting your head and shoulders follow until you can
make out a little branch as thick as your umbrella, and four inches
long, which sticks out of a cranny, and is within reach of a long
straddle. The awkward part of this is that in looking for the branch
you are obliged to look _down_. It is the first look-down absolutely
necessary, and it is one not easily forgotten. To the writer it had a
strange fascination. The actual peril of the position; the necessity of
coolness in head and eye; the uncertainty how far this could be relied
upon, was so startling, so vivid when the actual time came, as to force
a feeling of absolute security upon the mind! Never did he feel more
certain of his own powers than when hanging like a spread-eagle against
the face of that rock twenty-six hundred feet above the plains.
It is a good stretch, but does not require very long legs to do it. One
toe, no more, the right one on a knob of rock; the other foot feeling
for those four inches of scrub wood; both hands overhead grasping
the rope; and the strangest bird's-eye view between one's legs that
featherless biped could wish for. It did not do to look too long.
Another pull up is in front, along a ridge like the previous two, but
narrower again, which runs up to the Neck, the rope your companion
all the way; and then you can at last sit down in perfect safety.
This is the 'Neck,' which the aneroid gave as three hundred and forty
feet above the 'Shoulder.' It forms an irregular plateau partly round
the 'Head,' some six or eight feet broad, and quite flat. On it is a
carpet of rough grass and 'everlastings,' protected from the wind and
rain by the overhanging mass of rock, which is the 'Head,' formed of
irregularly shaped rock, forty feet in height, nearly round, and which
contains what there is of the brains of Pieter Both.
A notch in one side allows the rope which has been already passed
over, to rest without fear of slipping; and depending from this is a
short rope-ladder, hanging quite clear of everything over the rim of
the Neck. Its half-dozen rounds put the rope between your fingers; and
in less time than it takes to write it you are on the old fellow's
brain-pan, the keen air racing past, with no more harm done than a few
'barked' knuckles, and a queer growing feeling in one's head of utter
loneliness. Nothing but space all round; blue sky; white scudding
clouds quite close, which turn one giddy; for it seems to be that we
on our little plateau are racing past the clouds, borne noiselessly,
interminably; flung on some tiny planet whirling around an endless
orbit. There was another feeling to confess to, suggested by that thin
white rope creeping and disappearing over the bare edge--suppose it
broke, or was cut or frayed through! It was our sole connecting link
with home and life and dinner. How hungry we should be if anything were
to happen to that rope! how thirsty! how cold in the chill night! how
wet in the company of those drifting clouds! Insensibly one fell to
calculating which was the fattest for to-morrow's meal.
From our airy resting-place, the whole circumference of Mauritius, with
a small exception, can be traced. From its height everything below is
strangely dwarfed. Port-Louis as a town is barely visible; the harbour,
which is nearly two miles in length, is a mere strip of water; moving
objects are as much obliterated as if the land below was a printed map;
sounds there are none, absolute silence, broken only by the whistle
of the wind. In Mauritius, there is a paucity of animal life even in
the valleys; it is possible to walk for miles without hearing a bird's
note. On Pieter Both are no birds--even the lizards don't attempt him.
Now and again a tropic bird, the _Paille en queue_ of the French, sails
past, screaming his news from the sea beyond. One by one our party
gained the top, each one as he pulled himself over the edge lying down
for breath. Our feet, innocent of shoe-leather, had lost some of their
own, and more than one pair shewed signs of rough usage. But what were
a few scars to the triumph of sitting perched on Pieter Both--the dear
old Peter Botte of childhood's picture-book.
As the party met and got their breath, tongues were unloosed, and the
serious concentrated look that had sat on most faces hitherto, melted
under the influence of mutual congratulations. Eleven in all, without
counting Deebee and an assistant Indian, were gathered on the 'Head;'
sitting, standing, lying on that patch of black soil which Claude
Penthé spoke of for the first time nearly ninety years ago. The sheet
of lead for inscribing the names of the 'visitors' was there, but of
a tin box which was known to have been left, not a trace remains;
some passing hurricane has probably spirited it away. The descent was
safely made, though it is perhaps more awkward than the going up. Some
photographs were taken from the 'Shoulder,' on so narrow a shelf that
it was necessary to place a man at each leg of the tripod to prevent
the camera toppling over; a final glass drained to the health of the
old gray rock; and about four o'clock in the afternoon, La Laura and
the pleasant sugar-cane fields were reached without a single mishap.
It may be thought worthy to record the names of this the largest
party that ever made the ascent of Pieter Both. He is not likely to
be visited again for some time to come, and long before this account
appears, the whole eleven will be scattered far and wide--miles
distant from that strange, eerie trysting-place. They are: Lieutenants
MacIlwaine, Creswell, Bayly, and Midshipman Elwes of H.M.S.
_Undaunted_. Major Anderson, Captain Bond, Lieutenants Phillipps,
Hammans, Sillery, and Saunders of H.M. 32d Regiment; and Captain
Montague, Brigade Major. A pole was rigged up, and the Union-Jack
hoisted and left flying, as a remembrance of the day, and as a sign to
the many watchers in town that the ascent had been successful. These
told us afterwards that through a telescope our movements had been
perfectly traced; the passage of the 'Saddle Rock,' where the rope
stretches round the face of the mountain opposite Port-Louis, having
caused the strongest sensation, as our bodies, dwarfed to the size of
spiders, came out against the sky.