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THE PEARL OF INDIA
BY
MATURIN M. BALLOU
From India and the Golden Chersonese,
And utmost Indian Isle Taprobanes.
MILTON
SECOND EDITION
BOSTON AND NEW YORK
HOUGHTON, MIFFLIN AND COMPANY
The Riverside Press, Cambridge
1895
Copyright, 1894,
BY MATURIN M. BALLOU.
* * * * *
PREFACE.
That many readers evince a growing satisfaction in contemplating
foreign lands through the eyes of experienced travelers, the favor
shown to previous books by the author of these pages abundantly
testifies. Mutual profit is therefore the outcome of such a work; both
the author and reader are gratified.
It is a pleasure to depict scenes which have afforded so much
gratification to the writer, for enjoyment is redoubled by being
shared,--"joy was born a twin." The undersigned has often been asked
both personally and by letter, "Of all the places you have seen and
written about, which do you consider of the most interest, and which
do you recommend me to visit?" This is a very difficult question to
answer, because individual tastes differ so widely. It is safe to say
no point presents more varied attractions to the observant traveler,
more thoroughly and picturesquely exhibits equatorial life, or
addresses itself more directly to the delicate appreciation of the
artist, botanist, antiquarian, general scientist, and sportsman, than
does Ceylon, gem of the Orient. There are few attractive places in the
East which are so accessible, or which may be said to offer more
reasonable assurance of safety and good health to the stranger, than
this fabled isle of Arabian story. The climate is equable and most
delightful; though the temperature is exceptionally high, it is, in
fact, perpetual summer, varied only by the rains of the monsoon months
of May and June, October and November. The tropical heat near the
coast is trying to northern visitors, but one can always find a
refuge, within a day's journey, up in the hills of the central
province, where it is so cool at most seasons of the year as to render
a fire necessary after sunset. In the matter of expense, this route is
as economical as the average of land and sea travel in any direction.
The cost of living in Ceylon is quite as moderate as in Southern
Europe, and now that the island is so generally traversed by railways
and excellent government roads, there is very little hardship to be
encountered in visiting its remotest districts.
M. M. B.
* * * * *
CONTENTS.
CHAPTER I.
Introductory.--Coming from the Eastward.--Interesting Ocean
Phenomena.--Denizens of the Sea.--Bird Travelers.--Delusive Mirage.--A
Thrilling Adventure.--Prompt Seamanship.--A Struggle for Life.--Dust
of the Sea.--A Dangerous Wreck.--Night Watches.--Sighting the Island
of Ceylon.--Adam's Peak, among the Clouds.--A Beautiful
Shore.--Steamers and Sailing Ships.--Curious Native Boats.--Singhalese
Pedlers.--A Catamaran.--Tempting of Providence.--An Author's Position 1
CHAPTER II.
A Classic Island.--Topographical Position.--Maldive Islands.--Lands rising
out of the Sea.--Size of Ceylon.--Latitude and Longitude.--A Link of a
Powerful Chain.--Important British Station.--"Mountain of the Holy
Foot."--Remarkable Mountain View.--Queer Speculations.--Insect Life in the
Island.--Acknowledged Gem of the Orient.--Wild Elephants.--In Olden
Times.--Far-Reaching Historic Connections.--Arboreal and Floral
Beauties.--Perennial Vegetation.--The Feathered Tribe 19
CHAPTER III.
The Wearisome Tropics.--Waterspouts.--Climatic Conditions.--Length of
Days.--A Land Rich in Prehistoric Monuments.--History and Fable.--Last
King of Ceylon.--Ancient Ruins.--Aged Cave-Temples.--Gigantic Stone
Statue of Buddha.--French Vandals--A Native Chronicle.--Once the Seat
of a Great Empire.--System of Irrigation.--Mysterious Disappearance of
a Nation.--Ruins of a Vast City.--Departed Glory.--The Brazen
Palace.--Asiatic Extravagance.--Ruined Monument 44
CHAPTER IV.
Oriental Dagobas.--Ancient City of Pollonarua.--Laid out like our Modern
Capitals.--Unexplored Ruins.--Elaborate Stone Carvings.--Colossal Stone
Figure.--The "Buried Cities."--The Singhalese not a Progressive
People.--Modern History of Ceylon.--Captured by the English.--The
"Resplendent Island."--Commercial Prosperity.--Increasing Foreign
Population.--Under English Rule.--Native Soldiers.--Christian Sects and
Churches.--Roman Catholic Church.--Expulsion of the Jesuits 71
CHAPTER V.
Food of the People.--Rice Cultivation.--Vast Artificial Lakes.--The
Stone Tanks of Aden.--Parched Australia.--Coffee Culture.--Severe
Reverses among Planters.--Tea Culture.--Cinchona Plantations.--Heavy
Exportation of Tea.--Cacao Culture.--A Coffee Plantation
described.--Domesticated Snakes.--The Cinnamon-Tree.--Cinnamon Gardens a
Disappointment.--Picturesque Dwellings.--Forest Lands.--The Ceylon
Jungle.--Native Cabinet Woods.--Night in a Tropical Forest.--Rhododendrons
89
CHAPTER VI.
Arboreal King of the Forest.--The Palm Family.--Over-Generous Nature
and her Liberal Provisions.--Product of the Cocoanut-Tree.--The
Wide-Spreading Banian.--Excellent Public Roads.--Aquatic Birds and
Plants.--Native Fruit Trees.--The Mangosteen.--Spice-Bearing
Trees.--Treatment of Women.--Singhalese Rural Life.--Physical
Character of Tamil Men.--Tree Climbing.--Native Children.--Numerical
Relation of the Sexes.--Caste as respected in Ceylon.--Tattooing the
Human Body 112
CHAPTER VII.
Experiences between Colombo and Point de Galle.--Dangers of Encountering
Reptiles.--Marvelous Ant Houses.--Insect Architects.--Curious Bird's
Nests.--Flamingoes at Rest.--Variety of the Crane Family.--Wild
Pea-Fowls.--Buddha's Prohibition.--Peculiar Wood-Notes.--Mingling of Fruit
and Timber Trees.--Fatal Parasitic Vines.--Stillness of the
Forest.--Superstitions of the Natives.--Snake Bites.--Railway Facilities
131
CHAPTER VIII.
Colombo, Capital of Ceylon.--Harbor Facilities.--The
Breakwater.--Exposed to Epidemics.--Experiences on
Landing.--Hump-Backed Cattle.--Grand Oriental Hotel.--Singhalese
Waiters.--Galle Face Hotel.--An Unusual Scene.--Number of
Inhabitants.--Black Town the Native Quarters.--Domestic
Scenes.--Monkeys.--Evil Odors.--Humble Homes.--The
Banana-Tree.--Native Temples and Priestly Customs.--Vegetables and
Fruits.--Woman's Instinct.--Street Scenes in the Pettah.--Fish Market
144
CHAPTER IX.
The English Part of Colombo.--Army Reserves.--Ceylon an Independent
Colony.--"A Paternal Despotism."--Educational Facilities.--Buddhism
versus Christianity.--Public Buildings.--The Museum.--Domestic
Dwellings.--Suburb of Colpetty.--The Lake of Colombo.--A Popular
Driveway.--A Sunset Scene.--Excursion to the Kalani Temple.--The
Jinrikisha.--Current Diseases.--Native Jugglers.--Hypnotism.--Houdin,
the French Magician, astonishes the Natives.--The Thieving Crows 166
CHAPTER X.
Birds on the Rampage.--Familiar Nuisances.--Silver-Spoon Thieves.--Doctrine
of Metempsychosis.--Various Nationalities forming the Population.--Common
Languages.--Tamils are the Wage-Earners.--The Singhalese Proper are
Agriculturists.--Queer Belief in Demons.--Propitiation!--The
Veddahs.--Attacking Wild Elephants.--Serpent Worship.--Polyandry.--Native
Singhalese Women.--Dress of Both Sexes.--Streets of Colombo on a Gala
Day.--An English Four-in-Hand.--Mount Lavonia 186
CHAPTER XI.
The Ancient Capital of Kandy.--An Artificial Lake.--The Great River of
Ceylon.--Site of the Capital of the Central Province.--On the Way from
Colombo to Kandy.--The Tiny Musk-Deer.--The Wild Boar.--Native
Cabins.--From the Railway Car Windows.--The Lotus.--Destructive White
Ants and their Enemies.--Wild Animals.--The Mother of Twins.--A Little
Waif.--A Zigzag Railway.--An Expensive Road to build.--"Sensation
Rock" with an Evil History.--Grand Alpine Scenery 206
CHAPTER XII.
Historical Kandy.--Importance of Good Roads.--Native
Population.--Temple of Buddha's Tooth.--The Old Palace.--Governor's
House.--Great Resort of Pilgrims.--Interior of the Temple.--The Humbug
of Relics.--Priests of the Yellow Robe.--A Sacred Bo-Tree.--Diabolical
Services in the Ancient Temple.--Regular Heathen Powwow.--Singhalese
Music.--Emulating Midnight Tomcats.--Chronic Beggary.--The Old
Parisian Woman with Wooden Legs.--A Buddhist Rock-Temple 225
CHAPTER XIII.
Ceylon the Mecca of Buddhism.--The Drives about Kandy.--Fruit of the
Cashew.--Domestic Prison of Arabi Pasha.--"Egypt for the
Egyptians."--Hillside Bungalows.--Kandy Hotels at a Discount.--The
Famous Botanical Garden of Ceylon.--India-Rubber-Trees, Bamboos, and
Flying Foxes.--Dangerous Reptiles in the Garden.--The Boa
Constrictor.--Success of Peruvian-Bark Raising.--Vicious Land
Leeches.--The Burrowing and Tormenting Tick.--Where Sugar comes from
in Ceylon 241
CHAPTER XIV.
Fifty Miles into Central Ceylon.--Gorgeous Scenic Effects.--Gampola.--The
Singhalese Saratoga.--A Grand Waterfall.--Haunts of the Wild
Elephants.--Something about these Huge Beasts.--European Hunters
restricted.--An Indian Experience.--Elephants as Farm Laborers in Place of
Oxen.--Tame Elephants as Decoys.--Elephant Taming.--Highest Mountain on the
Island.--Pilgrims who ascend Adam's Peak.--Nuera-Ellia as a Sanitarium.--A
Hill Garden 258
CHAPTER XV.
Port of Trincomalee.--A Remarkable Harbor.--How to get
there.--Nelson's Eulogium.--Curious and Beautiful Shells.--Pearl
Oysters.--Process of Pearl Fishing.--What are Pearls and which are
most valued?--Profit to Government.--A Remarkable Pearl.--Tippo Sahib
and Cleopatra.--The Singhalese not Sailors.--Ancient Ruins,--Hot
Springs near Trincomalee.--"Temple of a Thousand Columns."--Valuable
Supply of Ship Timber.--Salt Manufactures.--Tenacity of Life in the
Shark 272
CHAPTER XVI.
Point de Galle.--An Ancient Port, now mostly deserted.--Dangerous
Harbor.--Environs of the City a Tropical Garden.--Paradise of Ferns and
Orchids.--Neptune's Gardens.--Tides of the Ocean.--Severe
Penalties.--Floating Islands of Seaweed.--Fable, like History, repeats
itself.--Chewing the Betelnut.--An Asiatic Habit.--All Nations seek Some
Stimulant.--Soil near Galle.--Cinnamon Stones.--Diamonds.--Workers in
Tortoise-Shell.--Millions of Fruitful Palms.--Sanitary Conditions of Galle
292
CHAPTER XVII.
Dondra Head.--"The City of the Gods."--A Vast Temple.--A Statue of Solid
Gold.--A Famous Rock-Temple.--Buddhist Monastery.--Caltura and its
Distilleries.--Edible Bird's Nests.--Basket-Making.--The
Kaluganga.--Cinnamon Gardens.--"The City of Gems."--A Magnificent
Ruby.--The True Cat's-Eye.--Vast Riches hidden in the Mountains.--Plumbago
Mining.--Iron Ore.--Kaolin.--Gem Cutting.--Native Swindlers.--Demoralizing
Effect of Gem Digging 307
CHAPTER XVIII.
Circumnavigating the Island.--Batticaloa, Capital of the Eastern
Province.--Rice Culture.--Fish Shooting.--Point Pedro.--Jaffna.--Northern
Province.--Oriental Bazaars.--Milk ignored.--The Clear Sea and White, Sandy
Bottom.--American Missionaries.--A Medical Bureau.--Self-Respect a Lost
Virtue.--Snake-Temples.--Ramisseram.--Adam's Bridge.--A Huge Hindu
Temple.--Island of Manaar.--Aripo.--The Port of Negombo.--Tamil
Coolies.--Homeward Bound.--A Farewell View 323
* * * * *
THE PEARL OF INDIA.
CHAPTER I.
Introductory.--Coming from the Eastward.--Interesting Ocean
Phenomena.--Denizens of the Sea.--Bird Travelers.--Delusive
Mirage.--A Thrilling Adventure.--Prompt Seamanship.--A
Struggle for Life.--Dust of the Sea.--A Dangerous
Wreck.--Night Watches.--Sighting the Island of
Ceylon.--Adam's Peak, among the Clouds.--A Beautiful
Shore.--Steamers and Sailing Ships.--Curious Native
Boats.--Singhalese Pedlers.--A Catamaran.--Tempting of
Providence.--An Author's Position.
After a pleasant sojourn in China and Japan, with Ceylon as his
objective point, the author came westward by way of the Malacca
Straits, crossing the Indian Ocean on a line of about the eighth
degree of north latitude. It is a lonely expanse of water, in
traversing which plenty of time was found for meditation. The
equatorial rains, though brief, were at times so profuse during the
voyage as to suggest the possibility of a second universal flood, and
also the advantage which might accrue from being web-footed; but the
air was mostly soft and balmy, the nights were gloriously serene and
bright. The transparency of the atmosphere magnified to dazzling
proportions the constellations which looked down so serenely upon us,
while the moon seemed to have taken a position vastly nearer to the
earth than is its wont at the north. The phosphorescent waves tossed
glowing gems, like fire-opals, about the ship's hull, while setting
our long wake ablaze with flashing light, and producing a Milky Way as
luminous as that above in the blue ether. All phosphorescent matter
requires friction to infuse it with light, and so the thoroughly
impregnated waters were churned into liquid fire by our vigorous and
swift-revolving propeller. What millions upon millions of animalcules,
and these again multiplied, must contribute to produce this aquatic
illumination. During the day, large turtles, schools of dolphins,
flying-fish, occasional water snakes, together with whole shoals of
jelly-fish, were encountered on the widespread tropical sea. At times,
myriads of the fairy-like nautilus floated past in gossamer frames,
while in savage contrast, voracious man-eating sharks followed the
ship close upon either quarter, in eager watchfulness for human prey.
How terribly significant is the upright dorsal fin of this creature,
seen just above the surface of the water, indicating the hideous,
slate-colored body which glides swiftly and stealthily below!
Hovering over and about the tall masts upon untiring pinions, a score
of white-winged, graceful marine birds persistently kept us company
day after day. They joined the ship off the coast of Sumatra, as we
left the entrance to the Malacca Straits, introducing themselves at
first with noisy vehemence and piercing cries, as if to assert their
presence and purpose, a proceeding which was not again repeated. What
became of these handsome feathered creatures at night we never knew,
and it was found that the oldest seaman was equally ignorant. If they
slept upon the waves, they must have overtaken us with arrowy
swiftness at the break of day. They were undoubtedly able to do this,
as they outstripped us in speed at any moment when they chose to do
so, sailing through the air far ahead and all around the rapid,
steady-going ship. However early one came on deck, they were sure to
be in sight, glancing hither and thither upon the invisible air
currents without any apparent exertion. It was the very poetry of
motion. We came finally to look upon these tireless fellow travelers
with no small degree of interest, and should really have regretted
their absence. It is always a pleasing diversion to watch them, to
count and see that their full number is still present, and to delight
in their free and graceful movements.
During the period of their presumed nightly rest upon the heaving
bosom of the sea, our vessel must necessarily pass over a distance of
many leagues, far, far beyond the power of human sight. How marvelous,
therefore, must be the instinct which guides them unerringly to resume
our company with the earliest rays of the morning light. When, in the
arid desert, the exhausted camel sinks at last in its tracks to die,
and is finally left by the rest of the caravan, no other object is
visible in the widespread expanse, even down to the very verge of the
horizon. Scarcely is the poor creature unloaded, however, and left to
perish upon the sand, before there will appear in the far-away sky a
cloud of vultures, at first mere specks in the blue atmosphere,
swooping with lightning speed towards the dying animal, whose bones
they immediately strip with terrific voraciousness. One who has
witnessed this scene can never forget it. The vultures strain and tear
at the carcass, swallowing great pieces of hide and flesh, until at
last, when they are completely gorged, they can only rise a few feet
from the earth, to sink again exhausted upon their feet. Hours must
transpire before they can again soar any distance upon the wing, after
their gluttonous repast.
The sea in this region of the Indian Ocean teems with animal life, the
curiously shaped finny tribe often exhibiting colors as gay and vivid
as those of the birds and flowers in the low latitudes.
Some strange and puzzling phenomena of nature were occasionally
witnessed. Now and again the whole ship's company were deluded by a
mirage; we seemed to be approaching land, though it was never reached,
and at the moment when we should fairly make out its bearings, it
faded slowly into thin air. So realistic were these appearances, often
repeated, that some passengers were curious enough to consult the
captain's sailing-charts to see if certain islands or shoals were not
laid down in or near the course we were steering. The nights were the
most enjoyable, so full of a delicious sense of repose, the stillness
broken only by the great heart-beats of the huge engine which formed
our motive power. The soft and refulgent atmosphere invited one to
linger on deck rather than to seek the close confinement of a
stateroom below, and thus many hours were passed in a half-dreaming,
half-conscious condition, while reviewing the varied experiences of
the past few months of travel. Tableaux of Japanese life and scenery,
bewitchingly attractive and enjoyable adventures in tea-houses, gay
excursions in jinrikishas, together with unique temples and huge
statues of Shinto deities, passed in endless procession before the
mind's eye. The oddities and the local color in Shanghai, Hongkong,
and Canton; the soothing motion of palanquins; the sloping-eyed,
yellow complexioned and pig-tailed people of China; a devastating
cyclone encountered in the Yellow Sea, and the wondrous sunset which
followed it; the gyrating waterspout which was seen off the Gulf of
Siam, a not infrequent experience where so many active currents of
wind and water meet; the many living pictures well-remembered of the
islands of the Malay Archipelago engraven upon the brain at Singapore,
Borneo, Sumatra, Penang, and Java, the latter containing more active
and extinct volcanoes than any other known region,--all these seemed
very real, though only silently rehearsed in dreamland.
Soon after leaving the straits and gaining the broad ocean, a brief
but heavy gale of wind was encountered, which created for some hours a
most boisterous sea. On the morning after the storm, a foremast hand
was sent over the starboard bow to make fast some gearing which had
become loosened by the gale. Almost immediately afterward, the cry of
"Man overboard!" rang fore and aft the ship. A wide-awake passenger
who happened to be standing near the taffrail instantly took a knife
from his pocket, and cutting loose a life-buoy which was fastened to
the starboard quarter ratline, promptly threw it towards the man in
the water as he floated away from the ship. The sailor saw it, and
being a good swimmer struck out for and reached it. A moment later, it
was seen that he had succeeded in thrusting his head and arms through
the opening of the sustaining buoy. In the mean time, the captain at
the sound of the ominous cry sprang up the ladder leading to the
bridge, and took personal charge of the ship, sending the first
officer, whose watch it happened to be, to superintend the lowering of
a quarter-boat to rescue the unfortunate seaman if possible. There was
no flurry, no confusion among the crew. Not a word was spoken except
by the officers. The silence of discipline was supreme. A sailor was
promptly ordered into the shrouds to keep run of the man, who was soon
out of sight from the deck, so rough was the intervening water. The
quarter-boat was lowered from the davits, and was afloat in less than
three minutes after the order was issued, with six stout seamen at the
oars and the first officer in the stern. What a mere cockle-shell it
appeared in that angry sea, one moment low down in the trough, and the
next upon the summit of the waves towering above the deck of the ship.
Nothing of less importance than the saving of a human life would have
warranted the launching of a boat in such a wild condition of the
waves. The sailor who had been sent into the shrouds was ordered to
point constantly toward the man in the water, so that those in the
boat might know in what direction to steer.
"Give way, men, give way with a will!" said the officer, and the oars
bent to the muscular power of the crew.
The ship had been under a twelve-knot headway when the accident
happened, and the man, supported by the buoy, was already a mile or
more to leeward. Then occurred a singular and inopportune
circumstance, which was for a moment the cause of dangerous delay. The
sturdy seaman who pulled the stroke oar of the boat just launched was
seen to falter, cease rowing, and suddenly to bend forward, as though
he were paralyzed. The excitement of the moment completely unmanned
him. His heart for an instant ceased to beat. The first officer
comprehended the situation instantly. Seamen are trained to
promptness; so off came his coat, the tiller was thrust into the
half-fainting sailor's hand, accompanied by a brief command,--he could
steer if he could not pull,--and the officer bent his own stout arms
and body to the stroke oar. There was no time for words,--the stake
was a human life. One or two of the anxious passengers whispered the
word "Shark!" Where were those tiger-fish at this critical moment? The
boat made slow but steady headway towards the distant seaman, while he
at the tiller steered as was indicated by the man stationed high up in
the ship's shrouds. Upon reaching the bridge and relieving the officer
on duty, the captain, while issuing his other orders, had coolly rung
down to the engine-room,--"Stand by! Slow down! Stop her! Back her!"
with a brief interval between each signal. Then, stepping to the
starboard end of the bridge, he waved his handkerchief to the fast
disappearing seaman to let him know that his commander was at his post
and would do his best to save him. The big hull, in response to her
reversed propeller, after a few moments of tremulous indecision, began
to move stern foremost. Several passengers ascended the rigging to
keep the boat in view, for it too was lost to sight from the deck. It
struggled stoutly with the angry sea, which seemed loath to give up
its victim. Those in the shrouds gazed eagerly, and almost held their
breath. The steamer drew very slowly nearer to the man in the water,
as well as to the boat. By and by, after a period of terrible
suspense, the man in the water was seen to be seized by his messmates
and drawn into the boat, which was then turned toward the ship. It was
a long and severe struggle still, to contend successfully with the
high sea which was running, but the boat was finally brought on the
lee side of the vessel, the stout ropes were made fast to the
ring-bolts in its stem and stern, and with all on board it was quickly
run up to the davits. The rescued man and his brave deliverers were
received on board with three hearty cheers, and the big ship, once
more under a full head of steam, took her course westward.
Prompt action, cool courage, and good seamanship saved the life of the
imperiled sailor. There was more than one grateful heart on board
which was relieved by a silent prayer of thanksgiving.
Some of our lady passengers complained of being seriously annoyed by
sea-dust, which at first thought seems ridiculous. Dust at sea! But
there is nevertheless an impalpable collection of salt matter or dry
spray, so to speak, which rises at times from the ocean, especially in
these latitudes, causing the eyes to smart, and giving a distinct
saline flavor to the lips, while it is so penetrating as to thoroughly
impregnate one's clothing. When the sun shines, this deposit seems to
be less abundant, but like the dew, it affects those most who are
exposed to the night air. The "dust" of the sea is very real, as any
experienced sailor will testify.
Our voyage was not without several eventful occurrences. On the
second day after the storm, the lookout reported some object ahead
lying almost directly in our course. At first it looked like a huge
whale, the dark body well out of water, or like the top of a sunken
rock; but as we rapidly approached, it was made out to be the hull of
a large ship, keel uppermost. It might have proved to be a fatal
encounter, had we run upon it in the night. A sharp lookout, together
with the sun shining upon the object, revealed it, but being so near
the color of the sea and having no top-hamper in sight, it could not
have been discovered at any considerable distance at night. Probably
half-sunken vessels have been ere this the cause of other and equally
fatal wrecks. The size and character of the one we had encountered
could only be surmised. The name, even, could not be made out. It
appeared to be a sailing craft of eighteen hundred or two thousand
tons, which had "turned turtle," as sailors term it, perhaps in the
storm which we had so lately encountered. The air retained in the hull
when it capsized evidently served to keep it afloat. Our steamer was
stopped within a safe distance, and a boat was lowered and sent in
charge of an officer to examine the hull, with orders to cut a hole in
the bottom. This would naturally cause the very dangerous obstruction
to sink. It was slow work to cut an opening in the stout bottom with
an axe, but when it was finally accomplished and an aperture two feet
square was made, the downward pressure of the huge structure forced
out the air and water with tremendous power, like a monster whale
spouting. It was now plain enough what had kept the hull afloat, for
as this confined air rushed out, producing a noise like escaping
steam, the dark mass began slowly to settle, so that before our boat
had returned and was fairly secured at the davits, it had sunk below
the surface of the waves, which washed over it for a few moments, as
though it were a coral reef. Then it suddenly disappeared altogether.
These treacherous seas have been well named the graveyard of commerce.
The mystery of the wreck, so far as we know, was never solved.
Doubtless all hands perished together when the vessel capsized.
Of course, such an experience sets one to speculating upon the
possibilities which it involves. Sometimes a terrible sense of
loneliness comes over the voyager upon the ocean, notwithstanding the
ship and its immediate surroundings, when he realizes the immense
space covered by the wilderness of the sea. It is not so much fear as
it is awe inspiring.
The passengers watched the captain with great interest daily, as he
went through the formula of recording the ship's course. Any incident
at sea is eagerly seized upon to vary the monotony. As is well known,
the commander of a ship corrects his time by the observation of the
sun at meridian, thus specifying his position upon the waste of
waters, and enabling him to mark upon the chart his exact latitude
and longitude. The process is a mystery to the average traveler, but
its simplicity will delight him, if he once takes the trouble to
understand it.
It was a bright December morning when we made the island of Ceylon.
Not a cloud was seen breaking the intense atmospheric blue that
overhung the vast expanse. Many of the passengers, on retiring the
night previous, left word with the steward to be called at an early
hour in anticipation of our sighting the land. The sea had been quite
calm for the last two days, and the nights sublime. A few of us found
it sufficiently restful to remain on deck amid such surroundings,
gazing idly among the clustering stars, so far away, and watching for
the first view of the shore. Thus the night passed, and the big red
globe of the sun came up out of the sea to the eastward, as though it
had been sleeping submerged there since it bade us good-night in the
west at twilight. Adam's Peak, in the shape of a perfect cone, had
been in view from the deck since the break of day, half lost in the
far-away sky. In clear weather, this famous elevation can be seen
sixty miles off the shore of the island. The height of the mountain,
and its looming form, at first produces the effect of a mountain
rising abruptly from out of the perfect level of the waves, but we
were now rapidly approaching the land, and just as the steward's bell
summoned us to breakfast, the lighthouse on the end of the breakwater
of Colombo came dimly into view. The first meal of the day, usually
partaken of at sea with such hearty zest, was neglected by most of the
passengers that morning. A welcome and absorbing sight was before us.
We had last been on land at Penang, which was now left thirteen
hundred miles astern. All were weary of the sea, and in a favorable
mood to fully enjoy the gentle land breeze which came to us laden with
the fragrance of flowers distilled from a wilderness of bloom.
Tropical luxuriance and languor reigned supreme. What a summer world
it was, beautiful beyond expression! The sunshine had not yet asserted
its oppressive power, and the island was seen at its best. An artistic
eye could not but delight in the lavish display of well-defined color
which was presented in the azure sky, the deep green of the
vegetation, the pale blue of the shoal water, and the snow-white
feathery spray combing over the stout granite coping of the
breakwater. As we came nearer to the influence of the shore, the air
was tinctured with rank odors, and the water was heavy with yellow
seaweed, while the hoarse murmurs of the contentious waves sounded
their mournful anthem. No matter how calm the outer sea may be, the
large green rollers of the ocean break with great force when they meet
with any abrupt impediment on the shore. One does not readily forget
such an impressive moment. It remains a joy forever.
It is curious how sensitive the judgment is to external influences.
Nothing is more likely to produce a fixed and unfavorable impression
of a new place than to approach it beneath a cheerless, cloud-darkened
sky, while bored by some personal annoyance. On the contrary, if one
is introduced to a fresh locality under cheerful auspices, while
Nature herself is in a happy mood, he unconsciously reflects a similar
spirit, and is heartily prepossessed in its favor. It was only
necessary to observe one's companions to see this fully illustrated.
There were a few disaffected ones to whom the world seemed all awry,
but the majority felt the inspiration and joyousness of the scene.
It was now clear enough that Adam's Peak ("Mount of the Holy Foot"),
which had seemed a short time since to rise abruptly from the very
bottom of the sea, was really situated far inland, dominating a whole
family of lesser elevations, and having many miles of low,
thick-wooded country lying between it and the ocean. As we rounded the
lighthouse, half a dozen European steamships came into view, riding at
their moorings, making a brief call here on their way east or west,
together with a considerable fleet of small coasting crafts, and a
long line of idle catamarans, drawn up upon the shelving beach.
Besides these, there were a couple of full-rigged European sailing
ships, presenting a strong contrast to the mammoth steamers with their
invisible motive power. One of the ships was getting under weigh,
bound for Australia. A number of her busy crew were aloft, engaged in
setting sail after sail, and covering the ample yards with canvas
wings, while the capstan bars were manned by others getting up the
anchor, their hearty and melodious nautical refrain coming clearly to
our ears across the intervening waters.
No sooner had our ship come to anchor than it was surrounded by a
score and more of curious native boats, which are called on this coast
catamarans (_katter maran_, "tied tree"). The true catamaran is to be
seen all along the east coast of India, consisting of three or four
trunks of trees bound together with thongs. These contrivances form
the rude floats which are used by the Coromandel fishermen, and hence
the name. A few of the boatmen who were permitted to come on board
vociferously importuned the new-comers for a job, or pressed great
bargains upon us in the shape of fresh fruit, Brummagem stones,
curiously ornamented boxes of shells, and toy carvings in ivory and
ebony, the latter mostly representing elephants and Chinese idols.
Altogether there was a perfect babel of tongues adding to the
confusion incident upon the landing of passengers and baggage. There
was much handshaking, while many hasty but hearty farewells were
spoken, for it must be remembered that the good ship, after leaving a
few of the cabin passengers safely on shore and taking on board a
supply of coals, would continue her voyage toward far-away England.
The queerly constructed boats to which we have referred consist of a
rudely dug-out tree trunk, fifteen or twenty feet long, having planks
of wood fastened to the sides lengthwise, to form gunwales and afford
some protection from the water. No nails are used in their
construction, the woodwork being securely lashed--we might say
sewed--together with Ceylon cordage, made from the fibrous bark of the
palm. An outrigger, consisting of a solid log of wood, is fastened
alongside six or eight feet away, by means of two arched poles of
stout, well-seasoned bamboo. The outrigger, which is about half the
length of the boat, prevents the possibility of overturning it, but
without this attachment so narrow a craft--less than twenty-four
inches in width--would not remain in an upright position, if occupied,
even in a perfectly calm sea. The outrigger is always kept to
windward, and as these canoes have both ends constructed alike, they
sail equally well either way. The mast and single sail, being
portable, are easily shifted from one end to the other, or adjusted to
suit. The similarity of these rude boats to those one sees throughout
the Eastern Archipelago shows us whence the idea was probably
borrowed. Some of the larger canoes are over forty feet in length, but
none are wide enough for two persons to sit abreast in them.
In these apparently frail floats the natives go fearlessly twenty
miles to sea in almost any weather short of a gale, to catch
deep-water fish, and it is a very rare occurrence to hear of any
serious mishap befalling a catamaran, or its hardy navigators. A
European, upon finding himself in one of these "floating scarecrows,"
according to the remark of a fellow passenger after reaching the
shore, "feels as if he were recklessly tempting Providence; and though
he may not be drowned, still he deserves to be." They are wretchedly
uncomfortable, these awkward boats, for one not accustomed to them,
but experience demonstrates that they are quite safe. As to the
natives, they tumble recklessly about in a catamaran, holding on like
monkeys, both with hands and feet.
Some of the passengers were observant enough to watch the handsome
birds which followed us a thousand miles and more across the sea, even
into the harbor of Colombo. There were others of the same species
flying about near the shore, but we fancied it possible to select our
special fellow travelers, as they still kept near to the ship's masts,
though she was now at anchor. Food was thrown to them from the cook's
galley, and that important functionary declared that when the ship
resumed her voyage, on the following day, the flock of gulls would
follow it as closely as heretofore, even through the Suez Canal and
the Mediterranean Sea, until the far-away English coast was reached.
Thus much we have said by way of introduction, and having now landed
on this "utmost Indian isle," let us endeavor to intelligently depict
its unique characteristics, together with its past and present story,
for the entertainment and information of the patient reader.
The author who sits down to write upon a given subject is generally so
full of his theme that he must constantly put on the brakes, as it
were, to curb his fancy. He is never thanked for what he omits from
his pages, though there is so much which he might but does not
express, lest his readers should feel bored by a detailed account of
that which, with the added charm of time and place, may have had
unwonted interest for himself. It is to be feared that words rarely
convey the real spirit of what most fascinates the eye, and whatever
they do not help the reader to see, like glass, they darken.