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Title: The Malay Archipelago, Volume 2

Author: Alfred Russel Wallace

Release date: March 1, 2001 [eBook #2539]
                Most recently updated: December 1, 2008

Language: English

Credits: Produced by Martin Adamson, and David Widger


*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE MALAY ARCHIPELAGO, VOLUME 2 ***




Produced by Martin Adamson





THE MALAY ARCHIPELAGO

VOLUME II. (of II.)

by Alfred R. Wallace




CHAPTER XXI. THE MOLUCCAS--TERNATE.

ON the morning of the 8th of January, 1858, I arrived at Ternate, the
fourth of a row of fine conical volcanic islands which shirt the west
coast of the large and almost unknown island of Gilolo. The largest
and most perfectly conical mountain is Tidore, which is over four
thousand Feet high--Ternate being very nearly the same height, but with
a more rounded and irregular summit. The town of Ternate is concealed
from view till we enter between the two islands, when it is discovered
stretching along the shore at the very base of the mountain. Its
situation is fine, and there are grand views on every side. Close
opposite is the rugged promontory and beautiful volcanic cone of Tidore;
to the east is the long mountainous coast of Gilolo, terminated towards
the north by a group of three lofty volcanic peaks, while immediately
behind the town rises the huge mountain, sloping easily at first and
covered with thick groves of fruit trees, but soon becoming steeper,
and furrowed with deep gullies. Almost to the summit, whence issue
perpetually faint wreaths of smoke, it is clothed with vegetation,
and looks calm and beautiful, although beneath are hidden fires which
occasionally burst forth in lava-streams, but more frequently make their
existence known by the earthquakes which have many times devastated the
town.

I brought letters of introduction to Mr. Duivenboden, a native of
Ternate, of an ancient Dutch family, but who was educated in England,
and speaks our language perfectly. He was a very rich man, owned half
the town, possessed many ships, and above a hundred slaves. He
was moreover, well educated, and fond of literature and science--a
phenomenon in these regions. He was generally known as the king of
Ternate, from his large property and great influence with the native
Rajahs and their subjects. Through his assistance I obtained a house;
rather ruinous, but well adapted to my purpose, being close to the town,
yet with a free outlet to the country and the mountain. A few needful
repairs were soon made, some bamboo furniture and other necessaries
obtained, and after a visit to the Resident and Police Magistrate I
found myself an inhabitant of the earthquake-tortured island of Ternate,
and able to look about me and lay down the plan of my campaign for the
ensuing year. I retained this house for three years, as I found it very
convenient to have a place to return to after my voyages to the
various islands of the Moluccas and New Guinea, where I could pack
my collections, recruit my health, and make preparations for future
journeys. To avoid repetitions, I will in this chapter combine what
notes I have about Ternate.

A description of my house (the plan of which is here shown) will
enable the reader to understand a very common mode of building in these
islands. There is of course only one floor. The walls are of stone up to
three feet high; on this are strong squared posts supporting the roof,
everywhere except in the verandah filled in with the leaf-stems of the
sago-palm, fitted neatly in wooden owing. The floor is of stucco,
and the ceilings are like the walls. The house is forty feet square,
consists of four rooms, a hall, and two verandahs, and is surrounded
by a wilderness of fruit trees. A deep well supplied me with pure cold
water, a great luxury in this climate. Five minutes' walk down the road
brought me to the market and the beach, while in the opposite direction
there were no more European houses between me and the mountain. In this
house I spent many happy days. Returning to it after a three or four
months' absence in some uncivilized region, I enjoyed the unwonted
luxuries of milk and fresh bread, and regular supplies of fish and eggs,
meat and vegetables, which were often sorely needed to restore my health
and energy. I had ample space and convenience or unpacking, sorting, and
arranging my treasures, and I had delightful walks in the suburbs of the
town, or up the lower slopes of the mountain, when I desired a little
exercise, or had time for collecting.

The lower part of the mountain, behind the town of Ternate, is almost
entirely covered with a forest of fruit trees, and during the season
hundreds of men and women, boys and girls, go up every day to bring down
the ripe fruit. Durians and Mangoes, two of the very finest tropical
fruits, are in greater abundance at Ternate than I have ever seen them,
and some of the latter are of a quality not inferior to any in the
world. Lansats and Mangustans are also abundant, but these do not ripen
till a little later. Above the fruit trees there is a belt of clearings
and cultivated grounds, which creep up the mountain to a height of
between two and three thousand feet, above which is virgin forest,
reaching nearly to the summit, which on the side next the town is
covered with a high reedy grass. On the further side it is more
elevated, of a bare and desolate aspect, with a slight depression
marking the position of the crater. From this part descends a black
scoriaceous tract; very rugged, and covered with a scanty vegetation of
scattered bushes as far down as the sea. This is the lava of the
great eruption near a century ago, and is called by the natives
"batu-angas"(burnt rock).

Just below my house is the fort, built by the Portuguese, below which is
an open space to the peach, and beyond this the native town extends for
about a mile to the north-east. About the centre of it is the palace
of the Sultan, now a large untidy, half-ruinous building of stone. This
chief is pensioned by the Dutch Government, but retains the sovereignty
over the native population of the island, and of the northern part of
Gilolo. The sultans of Ternate and Tidore were once celebrated through
the East for their power and regal magnificence. When Drake visited
Ternate in 1579, the Portuguese had been driven out of the island,
although they still had a settlement at Tidore. He gives a glowing
account of the Sultan: "The King had a very rich canopy with embossings
of gold borne over him, and was guarded with twelve lances. From the
waist to the ground was all cloth of gold, and that very rich; in the
attire of his head were finely wreathed in, diverse rings of plaited
gold, of an inch or more in breadth, which made a fair and princely
show, somewhat resembling a crown in form; about his neck he had a chain
of perfect gold, the links very great and one fold double; on his left
hand was a diamond, an emerald, a ruby, and a turky; on his right hand
in one ring a big and perfect turky, and in another ring many diamonds
of a smaller size."

All this glitter of barbaric gold was the produce of the spice trade, of
which the Sultans kept the monopoly, and by which they became wealthy.
Ternate, with the small islands in a line south of it, as far as
Batchian, constitute the ancient Moluccas, the native country of the
clove, as well as the only part in which it was cultivated. Nutmegs
and mace were procured from the natives of New Guinea and the adjacent
islands, where they grew wild; and the profits on spice cargoes were so
enormous, that the European traders were glad to give gold and jewels,
and the finest manufactures of Europe or of India, in exchange. When the
Dutch established their influence in these seas, and relieved the native
princes from their Portuguese oppressors, they saw that the easiest
way to repay themselves would be to get this spice trade into their own
hands. For this purpose they adopted the wise principle of concentrating
the culture of these valuable products in those spots only of which they
could have complete control. To do this effectually it was necessary to
abolish the culture and trade in all other places, which they succeeded
in doing by treaty with the native rulers. These agreed to have all the
spice trees in their possessions destroyed. They gave up large though
fluctuating revenues, but they gained in return a fixed subsidy, freedom
from the constant attacks and harsh oppressions of the Portuguese, and a
continuance of their regal power and exclusive authority over their own
subjects, which is maintained in all the islands except Ternate to this
day.

It is no doubt supposed by most Englishmen, who have been accustomed to
look upon this act of the Dutch with vague horror, as something
utterly unprincipled and barbarous, that the native population suffered
grievously by this destruction of such valuable property. But it is
certain that this was not the case. The Sultans kept this lucrative
trade entirely in their own hands as a rigid monopoly, and they would
take care not to give, their subjects more than would amount to their
usual wages, while: they would surely exact as large a quantity of spice
as they could possibly obtain. Drake and other early voyagers always
seem to have purchased their spice-cargoes from the Sultans and Rajahs,
and not from the cultivators. Now the absorption of so much labour in
the cultivation of this one product must necessarily have raised the
price of food and other necessaries; and when it was abolished,
more rice would be grown, more sago made, more fish caught, and more
tortoise-shell, rattan, gum-dammer, and other valuable products of the
seas and the forests would be obtained. I believe, therefore, that this
abolition of the spice trade in the Moluccas was actually beneficial to
the inhabitants, and that it was an act both wise in itself and morally
and politically justifiable.

In the selection of the places in which to carry on the cultivation,
the Dutch were not altogether fortunate or wise. Banda was chosen for
nutmegs, and was eminently successful, since it continues to this day
to produce a large supply of this spice, and to yield a considerable
revenue. Amboyna was fixed upon for establishing the clove cultivation;
but the soil and climate, although apparently very similar to that of
its native islands, is not favourable, and for some years the Government
have actually been paying to the cultivators a higher rate than they
could purchase cloves elsewhere, owing to a great fall in the price
since the rate of payment was fixed for a term of years by the Dutch
Government, and which rate is still most honourably paid.

In walking about the suburbs of Ternate, we find everywhere the ruins of
massive stone and brick buildings, gateways and arches, showing at once
the superior wealth of the ancient town and the destructive effects of
earthquakes. It was during my second stay in the town, after my return
from New Guinea, that I first felt an earthquake. It was a very slight
one, scarcely more than has been felt in this country, but occurring in
a place that lad been many times destroyed by them it was rather more
exciting. I had just awoke at gun-fire (5 A.M.), when suddenly the
thatch began to rustle and shake as if an army of cats were galloping
over it, and immediately afterwards my bed shook too, so that for an
instant I imagined myself back in New Guinea, in my fragile house, which
shook when an old cock went to roost on the ridge; but remembering that
I was now on a solid earthen floor, I said to myself, "Why, it's an
earthquake," and lay still in the pleasing expectation of another shock;
but none came, and this was the only earthquake I ever felt in Ternate.

The last great one was in February 1840, when almost every house in the
place was destroyed. It began about midnight on the Chinese New Year's
festival, at which time every one stays up nearly all night feasting
at the Chinamen's houses and seeing the processions. This prevented
any lives being lost, as every one ran out of doors at the first shock,
which was not very severe. The second, a few minutes afterwards, threw
down a great many houses, and others, which continued all night and part
of the next day, completed the devastation. The line of disturbance
was very narrow, so that the native town a mile to the east scarcely
suffered at all. The wave passed from north to south, through the
islands of Tidore and Makian, and terminated in Batchian, where it was
not felt till four the following afternoon, thus taking no less than
sixteen hours to travel a hundred miles, or about six miles an hour. It
is singular that on this occasion there was no rushing up of the tide,
or other commotion of the sea, as is usually the case during great
earthquakes.

The people of Ternate are of three well-marked races the Ternate Malays,
the Orang Sirani, and the Dutch. The first are an intrusive Malay race
somewhat allied to the Macassar people, who settled in the country at a
very early epoch, drove out the indigenes, who were no doubt the same
as those of the adjacent mainland of Gilolo, and established a monarchy.
They perhaps obtained many of their wives from the natives, which will
account for the extraordinary language they speak--in some respects
closely allied to that of the natives of Gilolo, while it contains
much that points to a Malayan origin. To most of these people the Malay
language is quite unintelligible, although such as are engaged in trade
are obliged to acquire it. "Orang Sirani," or Nazarenes, is the name
given by the Malays to the Christian descendants of the Portuguese, who
resemble those of Amboyna, and, like them, speak only Malay. There are
also a number of Chinese merchants, many of them natives of the place,
a few Arabs, and a number of half-breeds between all these races and
native women. Besides these there are some Papuan slaves, and a few
natives of other islands settled here, making up a motley and very
puzzling population, till inquiry and observation have shown the
distinct origin of its component parts.

Soon after my first arrival in Ternate I went to the island of Gilolo,
accompanied by two sons of Mr. Duivenboden, and by a young Chinaman, a
brother of my landlord, who lent us the boat and crew. These latter
were all slaves, mostly Papuans, and at starting I saw something of the
relation of master and slave in this part of the world. The crew had
been ordered to be ready at three in the morning, instead of which none
appeared till five, we having all been kept waiting in the dark and
cold for two hours. When at length they came they were scolded by their
master, but only in a bantering manner, and laughed and joked with
him in reply. Then, just as we were starting, one of the strongest men
refused to go at all, and his master had to beg and persuade him to go,
and only succeeded by assuring him that I would give him something; so
with this promise, and knowing that there would be plenty to eat and
drink and little to do, the black gentleman was induced to favour us
with his company and assistance. In three hours' rowing and sailing we
reached our destination, Sedingole, where there is a house belonging to
the Sultan of Tidore, who sometimes goes there hunting. It was a dirty
ruinous shed, with no furniture but a few bamboo bedsteads. On taking
a walk into the country, I saw at once that it was no place for me.
For many miles extends a plain covered with coarse high grass, thickly
dotted here and there with trees, the forest country only commencing
at the hills a good way in the interior. Such a place would produce few
birds and no insects, and we therefore arranged to stay only two days,
and then go on to Dodinga, at the narrow central isthmus of Gilolo,
whence my friends would return to Ternate. We amused ourselves shooting
parrots, lories, and pigeons, and trying to shoot deer, of which we saw
plenty, but could not get one; and our crew went out fishing with a net,
so we did not want for provisions. When the time came for us to continue
our journey, a fresh difficulty presented itself, for our gentlemen
slaves refused in a body to go with us; saying very determinedly that
they would return to Ternate. So their masters were obliged to submit,
and I was left behind to get to Dodinga as I could. Luckily I succeeded
in hiring a small boat, which took me there the same night, with my two
men and my baggage.

Two or three years after this, and about the same length of time before
I left the East, the Dutch emancipated all their slaves, paying their
owners a small compensation. No ill results followed. Owing to the
amicable relations which had always existed between them and their
masters, due no doubt in part to the Government having long accorded
them legal rights and protection against cruelty and ill-usage, many
continued in the same service, and after a little temporary difficulty
in some cases, almost all returned to work either for their old or for
new, masters. The Government took the very proper step of placing every
emancipated slave under the surveillance of the police-magistrate. They
were obliged to show that they were working for a living, and had some
honestly-acquired means of existence. All who could not do so were
placed upon public works at low wages, and thus were kept from the
temptation to peculation or other crimes, which the excitement of
newly-acquired freedom, and disinclination to labour, might have led
them into.



CHAPTER XXII. GILOLO.

(MARCH AND SEPTEMBER 1858.)

I MADE but few and comparatively short visits to this large and little
known island, but obtained a considerable knowledge of its natural
history by sending first my boy Ali, and then my assistant, Charles
Allen, who stayed two or three months each in the northern peninsula,
and brought me back large collections of birds and insects. In this
chapter I propose to give a sketch of the parts which I myself visited.
My first stay was at Dodinga, situated at the head of a deep-bay
exactly opposite Ternate, and a short distance up a little stream
which penetrates a few miles inland. The village is a small one, and is
completely shut in by low hills.

As soon as I arrived, I applied to the head man of the village for a
house to live in, but all were occupied, and there was much difficulty
in finding one. In the meantime I unloaded my baggage on the beach and
made some tea, and afterwards discovered a small but which the owner was
willing to vacate if I would pay him five guilders for a month's rent.
As this was something less than the fee-simple value of the dwelling,
I agreed to give it him for the privilege of immediate occupation, only
stipulating that he was to make the roof water-tight. This he agreed
to do, and came every day to tally and look at me; and when I each time
insisted upon his immediately mending the roof according to contract,
all the answer I could get was, "Ea nanti," (Yes, wait a little.)
However, when I threatened to deduct a quarter guilder from the rent for
every day it was not done, and a guilder extra if any of my things were
wetted, he condescended to work for half an hour, which did all that was
absolutely necessary.

On the top of a bank, of about a hundred feet ascent from the water,
stands the very small but substantial fort erected by the Portuguese.
Its battlements and turrets have long since been overthrown by
earthquakes, by which its massive structure has also been rent; but it
cannot well be thrown down, being a solid mass of stonework, forming
a platform about ten feet high, and perhaps forty feet square. It is
approached by narrow steps under an archway, and is now surmounted by a
row of thatched hovels, in which live the small garrison, consisting of,
a Dutch corporal and four Javanese soldiers, the sole representatives
of the Netherlands Government in the island. The village is occupied
entirely by Ternate men. The true indigenes of Gilolo, "Alfuros" as they
are here called, live on the eastern coast, or in the interior of the
northern peninsula. The distance across the isthmus at this place is
only two miles, and there, is a good path, along which rice and sago
are brought from the eastern villages. The whole isthmus is very rugged,
though not high, being a succession of little abrupt hills anal valleys,
with angular masses of limestone rock everywhere projecting, and often
almost blocking up the pathway. Most of it is virgin forest, very
luxuriant and picturesque, and at this time having abundance of large
scarlet Ixoras in flower, which made it exceptionally gay. I got some
very nice insects here, though, owing to illness most of the time, my
collection was a small one, and my boy Ali shot me a pair of one of the
most beautiful birds of the East, Pitta gigas, a lame ground-thrush,
whose plumage of velvety black above is relieved by a breast of pure
white, shoulders of azure blue, and belly of vivid crimson. It has very
long and strong legs, and hops about with such activity in the dense
tangled forest, bristling with rocks, as to make it very difficult to
shoot.

In September 1858, after my return from New Guinea, I went to stay
some time at the village of Djilolo, situated in a bay on the northern
peninsula. Here I obtained a house through the kindness of the Resident
of Ternate, who sent orders to prepare one for me. The first walk into
the unexplored forests of a new locality is a moment of intense interest
to the naturalist, as it is almost sure to furnish him with something
curious or hitherto unknown. The first thing I saw here was a flock of
small parroquets, of which I shot a pair, and was pleased to find a most
beautiful little long-tailed bird, ornamented with green, red, and
blue colours, and quite new to me. It was a variety of the Charmosyna
placentis, one of the smallest and most elegant of the brush-tongued
lories. My hunters soon shot me several other fine birds, and I myself
found a specimen of the rare and beautiful day-flying moth, Cocytia
d'Urvillei.

The village of Djilolo was formerly the chief residence of the Sultans
of Ternate, till about eighty years ago, when at the request of the
Dutch they removed to their present abode. The place was then no doubt
much more populous, as is indicated by the wide extent of cleared
land in the neighbourhood, now covered with coarse high grass, very
disagreeable to walk through, and utterly barren to the naturalist. A
few days' exploring showed me that only some small patches of forest
remained for miles wound, and the result was a scarcity of insects and
a very limited variety of birds, which obliged me to change my locality.
There was another village called Sahoe, to which there was a road of
about twelve miles overland, and this had been recommended to me as
a good place for birds, and as possessing a large population both of
Mahomotans and Alfuros, which latter race I much wished to see. I set
off one morning to examine this place myself, expecting to pass
through some extent of forest on my way. In this however I was much
disappointed, as the whole road lies through grass and scrubby thickets,
and it was only after reaching the village of Sahoe that some high
forest land was perceived stretching towards the mountains to the north
of it. About half-way we dad to pass a deep river on a bamboo raft,
which almost sunk beneath us. This stream was said to rise a long way
off to the northward.

Although Sahoe did not at all appear what I expected, I determined to
give it a trial, and a few days afterwards obtained a boat to carry
my things by sea while I walked overland. A large house on the beach
belonging to the Sultan was given me. It stood alone, and was quite
open on every side, so that little privacy could be had, but as I only
intended to stay a short time I made it do. Avery, few days dispelled
all hopes I might have entertained of making good collections in this
place. Nothing was to be found in every direction but interminable
tracts of reedy grass, eight or ten feet high, traversed by narrow
baths, often almost impassable. Here and there were clumps of fruit
trees, patches of low wood, and abundance of plantations and rice
grounds, all of which are, in tropical regions, a very desert for the
entomologist. The virgin forest that I was in search of, existed only
on the summits and on the steep rocky sides of the mountains a long way
off, and in inaccessible situations. In the suburbs of the village I
found a fair number of bees and wasps, and some small but interesting
beetles. Two or three new birds were obtained by my hunters, and by
incessant inquiries and promises I succeeded in getting the natives to
bring me some land shells, among which was a very fine and handsome
one, Helix pyrostoma. I was, however, completely wasting my time here
compared with what I might be doing in a good locality, and after a
week returned to Ternate, quite disappointed with my first attempts at
collecting in Gilolo.

In the country round about Sahoe, and in the interior, there is a large
population of indigenes, numbers of whom came daily into the village,
bringing their produce for sale, while others were engaged as labourers
by the Chinese and Ternate traders. A careful examination convinced me
that these people are radically distinct from all the Malay races. Their
stature and their features, as well as their disposition and habits,
are almost the same as those of the Papuans; their hair is
semi-Papuan-neither straight, smooth, and glossy, like all true Malays',
nor so frizzly and woolly as the perfect Papuan type, but always crisp,
waved, and rough, such as often occurs among the true Papuans, but never
among the Malays. Their colour alone is often exactly that of the Malay,
or even lighter. Of course there has been intermixture, and there occur
occasionally individuals which it is difficult to classify; but in most
cases the large, somewhat aquiline nose, with elongated apex, the tall
stature, the waved hair, the bearded face, and hairy body, as well as
the less reserved manner and louder voice, unmistakeably proclaim the
Papuan type. Here then I had discovered the exact boundary lice between
the Malay and Papuan races, and at a spot where no other writer had
expected it. I was very much pleased at this determination, as it
gave me a clue to one of the most difficult problems in Ethnology,
and enabled me in many other places to separate the two races, and to
unravel their intermixtures.

On my return from Waigiou in 1860, I stayed some days on the southern
extremity of Gilolo; but, beyond seeing something more of its structure
and general character, obtained very little additional information.
It is only in the northern peninsula that there are any indígenes, the
whole of the rest of the island, with Batchian and the other islands
westward, being exclusively inhabited by Malay tribes, allied to those
of Ternate and Tidore. This would seem to indicate that the Alfuros were
a comparatively recent immigration, and that they lead come from the
north or east, perhaps from some of the islands of the Pacific. It is
otherwise difficult to understand how so many fertile districts should
possess no true indigenes.

Gilolo, or Halmaheira as it is called by the Malays and Dutch, seems
to have been recently modified by upheaval and subsidence. In 1673, a
mountain is said to stave been upheaved at Gamokonora on the northern
peninsula. All the parts that I have seen have either been volcanic
or coralline, and along the coast there are fringing coral reefs very
dangerous to navigation. At the same time, the character of its natural
history proves it to be a rather ancient land, since it possesses a
number of animals peculiar to itself or common to the small islands
around it, but almost always distinct from those of New Guinea on the
east, of Ceram on the south, and of Celebes and the Sula islands on the
west.

The island of Morty, close to the north-eastern extremity of Gilolo, was
visited by my assistant Charles Allen, as well as by Dr. Bernstein; and
the collections obtained there present some curious differences from
those of the main island. About fifty-six species of land-birds are
known to inhabit this island, and of these, a kingfisher (Tanysiptera
Boris), a honey-sucker (Tropidorhynchus fuscicapillus), and a large
crow-like starling (Lycocorax morotensis), are quite distinct from
allied species found in Gilolo. The island is coralline and sandy, and
we must therefore believe it to have been separated from Gilolo at a
somewhat remote epoch; while we learn from its natural history that an
arm of the sea twenty-five miles wide serves to limit the range even of
birds of considerable powers of flight.



CHAPTER XXIII. TERNATE TO THE KAIOA ISLANDS AND BATCHIAN.

(OCTOBER 1858.)

ON returning to Ternate from Sahoe, I at once began making preparations
for a journey to Batchian, an island which I had been constantly
recommended to visit since I had arrived in this part of the Moluccas.
After all was ready I found that I should have to hire a boat, as no
opportunity of obtaining a passage presented itself. I accordingly went
into the native town, and could only find two boats for hire, one much
larger than I required, and the other far smaller than I wished. I chose
the smaller one, chiefly because it would not cost me one-third as much
as the larger one, and also because in a coasting voyage a small vessel
can be more easily managed, and more readily got into a place of safety
during violent gales, than a large one. I took with me my Bornean lad
Ali, who was now very useful to me; Lahagi, a native of Ternate, a very
good steady man, and a fair shooter, who had been with me to New Guinea;
Lahi, a native of Gilolo, who could speak Malay, as woodcutter and
general assistant; and Garo, a boy who was to act as cook. As the boat
was so small that we had hardly room to stow ourselves away when all my
stores were on board, I only took one other man named Latchi, as pilot.
He was a Papuan slave, a tall, strong black fellow, but very civil and
careful. The boat I had hired from a Chinaman named Lau Keng Tong, for
five guilders a month.

We started on the morning of October 9th, but had not got a hundred
yards from land, when a strong head wind sprung up, against which we
could not row, so we crept along shore to below the town, and waited
till the turn of the tide should enable us to cross over to the coast of
Tidore. About three in the afternoon we got off, and found that our boat
sailed well, and would keep pretty close to the wind. We got on a good
way before the wind fell and we had to take to our oars again. We landed
on a nice sandy beach to cook our suppers, just as the sun set behind
the rugged volcanic hills, to the south of the great cone of Tidore,
and soon after beheld the planet Venus shining in the twilight with the
brilliancy of a new moon, and casting a very distinct shadow. We left
again a little before seven, and as we got out from the shadow of the
mountain I observed a bright light over one part of the edge, and soon
after, what seemed a fire of remarkable whiteness on the very summit of
the hill. I called the attention of my men to it, and they too thought
it merely a fire; but a few minutes afterwards, as we got farther off
shore, the light rose clear up above the ridge of the hill, and some
faint clouds clearing away from it, discovered the magnificent comet
which was at the same time, astonishing all Europe. The nucleus
presented to the naked eye a distinct disc of brilliant white light,
from which the tail rose at an angle of about 30° or 35° with the
horizon, curving slightly downwards, and terminating in a broad brush
of faint light, the curvature of which diminished till it was nearly
straight at the end. The portion of the tail next the comet appeared
three or four tunes as bright as the most luminous portion of the milky
way, and what struck me as a singular feature was that its upper margin,
from the nucleus to very near the extremity, was clearly and almost
sharply defined, while the lower side gradually shaded off into
obscurity. Directly it rose above the ridge of the hill, I said to my
men, "See, it's not a fire, it's a bintang ber-ekor" ("tailed-star," the
Malay idiom for a comet). "So it is," said they; and all declared that
they had often heard tell of such, but had never seen one till now. I
had no telescope with me, nor any instrument at hand, but I estimated
the length of the tail at about 20°, and the width, towards the
extremity, about 4° or 5°.

The whole of the next day we were obliged to stop near the village of
Tidore, owing to a strong wind right in our teeth. The country was all
cultivated, and I in vain searched for any insects worth capturing. One
of my men went out to shoot, but returned home without a single bird. At
sunset, the wind having dropped, we quitted Tidore, and reached the
next island, March, where we stayed till morning. The comet was again
visible, but not nearly so brilliant, being partly obscured by clouds;
and dimmed by the light of the new moon. We then rowed across to the
island of Motir, which is so surrounded with coral-reefs that it is
dangerous to approach. These are perfectly flat, and are only covered at
high water, ending in craggy vertical walls of coral in very deep water.
When there is a little wind, it is dangerous to come near these rocks;
but luckily it was quite smooth, so we moored to their edge, while the
men crawled over the reef to the land, to make; a fire and cook our
dinner-the boat having no accommodation for more than heating water for
my morning and evening coffee. We then rowed along the edge of the reef
to the end of the island, and were glad to get a nice westerly breeze,
which carried us over the strait to the island of Makian, where we
arrived about 8 P.M, The sky was quite clear, and though the moon shone
brightly, the comet appeared with quite as much splendour as when we
first saw it.

The coasts of these small islands are very different according to their
geological formation. The volcanoes, active or extinct, have steep black
beaches of volcanic sand, or are fringed with rugged masses of lava and
basalt. Coral is generally absent, occurring only in small patches in
quiet bays, and rarely or never forming reefs. Ternate, Tidore, and
Makian belong to this class. Islands of volcanic origin, not themselves
volcanoes, but which have been probably recently upraised, are generally
more or less completely surrounded by fringing reefs of coral, and
have beaches of shining white coral sand. Their coasts present volcanic
conglomerates, basalt, and in some places a foundation of stratified
rocks, with patches of upraised coral. Mareh and Motir are of this
character, the outline of the latter giving it the appearance of having
been a true volcano, and it is said by Forrest to have thrown out
stones in 1778. The next day (Oct. 12th), we coasted along the island of
Makian, which consists of a single grand volcano. It was now quiescent,
but about two centuries ago (in 1646) there was a terrible eruption,
which blew up the whole top of the mountain, leaving the truncated
jagged summit and vast gloomy crater valley which at this time
distinguished it. It was said to have been as lofty as Tidore before
this catastrophe. [Soon after I' left the Archipelago, on the 29th of
December, 1862, another eruption of this mountain suddenly took place,
which caused great devastation in the island. All the villages and crops
were destroyed, and numbers of the inhabitants killed. The sand and
ashes fell so thick that the crops were partially destroyed fifty miles
off, at Ternate, where it was so dark the following day that lamps
had to be lighted at noon. For the position of this and the adjacent
islands, see the map in Chapter XXXVII.]

I stayed some time at a place where I saw a new clearing on a very steep
part of the mountain, and obtained a few interesting insects. In the
evening we went on to the extreme southern point, to be ready to pass
across the fifteen-mile strait to the island of Kaióa. At five the next
morning we started, but the wind, which had hitherto been westerly, now
got to the south and southwest, and we had to row almost all the way
with a burning sun overhead. As we approached land a fine breeze sprang
up, and we went along at a great pace; yet after an hour we were no
nearer, and found we were in a violent current carrying us out to sea.
At length we overcame it, and got on shore just as the sun set, having
been exactly thirteen hours coming fifteen miles. We landed on a beach
of hard coralline rock, with rugged cliffs of the same, resembling those
of the Ke Islands (Chap. XXIX.) It was accompanied by a brilliancy and
luxuriance of the vegetation, very like what I had observed at those
islands, which so much pleased me that I resolved to stay a few days
at the chief village, and see if their animal productions were
correspondingly interesting. While searching for a secure anchorage for
the night we again saw the comet, still apparently as brilliant as at
first, but the tail had now risen to a higher angle.

October 14th.--All this day we coasted along the Kaióa Islands, which
have much the appearance and outline of Ke on a small scale, with the
addition of flat swampy tracts along shore, and outlying coral reefs.
Contrary winds and currents had prevented our taking the proper course
to the west of them, and we had to go by a circuitous route round the
southern extremity of one island, often having to go far out to sea on
account of coral reefs. On trying to pass a channel through one of these
reefs we were grounded, and all had to get out into the water, which in
this shallow strait had been so heated by the sun as to be disagreeably
warm, and drag our vessel a considerable distance among weeds and
sponges, corals and prickly corallines. It was late at night when we
reached the little village harbour, and we were all pretty well knocked
up by hard work, and having had nothing but very brackish water to drink
all day-the best we could find at our last stopping-place. There was a
house close to the shore, built for the use of the Resident of Ternate
when he made his official visits, but now occupied by several native
travelling merchants, among whom I found a place to sleep.

The next morning early I went to the village to find the "Kapala," or
head man. I informed him that I wanted to stay a few days in the house
at the landing, and begged him to have it made ready for me. He was very
civil, and came down at once to get it cleared, when we found that the
traders had already left, on hearing that I required it. There were no
doors to it, so I obtained the loan of a couple of hurdles to keep out
dogs and other animals. The land here was evidently sinking rapidly,
as shown by the number of trees standing in salt water dead and dying.
After breakfast I started for a walk to the forest-covered hill above
the village, with a couple of boys as guides. It was exceedingly hot and
dry, no rain having fallen for two months. When we reached an elevation
of about two hundred feet, the coralline rock which fringes the
shore was succeeded by a hard crystalline rock, a kind of metamorphic
sandstone. This would indicate flat there had been a recent elevation of
more than two hundred feet, which had still more recently clanged into
a movement of subsidence. The hill was very rugged, but among dry sticks
and fallen trees I found some good insects, mostly of forms and species
I was already acquainted with from Ternate and Gilolo. Finding no good
paths I returned, and explored the lower ground eastward of the village,
passing through a long range of plantain and tobacco grounds, encumbered
with felled and burnt logs, on which I found quantities of beetles of
the family Buprestidae of six different species, one of which was new
to me. I then reached a path in the swampy forest where I hoped to find
some butterflies, but was disappointed. Being now pretty well exhausted
by the intense heat, I thought it wise to return and reserve further
exploration for the next day.

When I sat down in the afternoon to arrange my insects, the louse
was surrounded by men, women, and children, lost in amazement at my
unaccountable proceedings; and when, after pinning out the specimens, I
proceeded to write the name of the place on small circular tickets, and
attach one to each, even the old Kapala, the Mahometan priest, and some
Malay traders could not repress signs of astonishment. If they had
known a little more about the ways and opinions of white men, they
would probably have looked upon me as a fool or a madman, but in their
ignorance they accepted my operations as worthy of all respect, although
utterly beyond their comprehension.

The next day (October 16th) I went beyond the swamp, and found a place
where a new clearing was being made in the virgin forest. It was a long
and hot walk, and the search among the fallen trunks and branches was
very fatiguing, but I was rewarded by obtaining about seventy distinct
species of beetles, of which at least a dozen were new to me, and many
others rare and interesting. I have never in my life seen beetles so
abundant as they were on this spot. Some dozen species of good-sized
golden Buprestidae, green rose-chafers (Lomaptera), and long-horned
weevils (Anthribidae), were so abundant that they rose up in swarms as I
walked along, filling the air with a loud buzzing hum. Along with these,
several fine Longicorns were almost equally common, forming such au
assemblage as for once to realize that idea of tropical luxuriance which
one obtains by looking over the drawers of a well-filled cabinet. On
the under sides of the trunks clung numbers of smaller or more sluggish
Longicorns, while on the branches at the edge of the clearing others
could be detected sitting with outstretched antenna ready to take flight
at the least alarm. It was a glorious spot, and one which will always
live in my memory as exhibiting the insect-life of the tropics in
unexampled luxuriance. For the three following days I continued to visit
this locality, adding each time many new species to my collection-the
following notes of which may be interesting to entomologists. October
15th, 33 species of beetles; 16th, 70 species; 17th, 47 species; 18th,
40 species; 19th, 56 species--in all about a hundred species, of which
forty were new to me. There were forty-four species of Longicorns among
them, and on the last day I took twenty-eight species of Longicorns, of
which five were new to me.

My boys were less fortunate in shooting. The only birds at all common
were the great red parrot (Eclectus grandis), found in most of the
Moluccas, a crow, and a Megapodius, or mound-maker. A few of the pretty
racquet-tailed kingfishers were also obtained, but in very poor plumage.
They proved, however, to be of a different species from those found in
the other islands, and come nearest to the bird originally described by
Linnaeus under the name of Alcedo dea, and which came from Ternate. This
would indicate that the small chain of islands parallel to Gilolo have
a few peculiar species in common, a fact which certainly occurs in
insects.

The people of Kaioa interested me much. They are evidently a mixed race,
having Malay and Papuan affinities, and are allied to the peoples
of Ternate and of Gilolo. They possess a peculiar language, somewhat
resembling those of the surrounding islands, but quite distinct. They
are now Mahometans, and are subject to Ternate, The only fruits seen
here were papaws and pine-apples, the rocky soil and dry climate being
unfavourable. Rice, maize, and plantains flourish well, except that
they suffer from occasional dry seasons like the present one. There is
a little cotton grown, from which the women weave sarongs (Malay
petticoats). There is only one well of good water on the islands,
situated close to the landing-place, to which all the inhabitants come
for drinking water. The men are good boat-builders, and they make a
regular trade of it and seem to be very well off.

After five days at Kaióa we continued our journey, and soon got among
the narrow straits and islands which lead down to the town of Batchian.
In the evening we stayed at a settlement of Galela men. These are
natives of a district in the extreme north of Gilolo, and are great
wanderers over this part of the Archipelago. They build large and roomy
praus with outriggers, and settle on any coast or island they take a
fancy for. They hunt deer and wild pig, drying the meat; they catch
turtle and tripang; they cut down the forest and plant rice or maize,
and are altogether remarkably energetic and industrious. They are very
line people, of light complexion, tall, and with Papuan features, coming
nearer to the drawings and descriptions of the true Polynesians of
Tahiti and Owyhee than any I have seen.

During this voyage I had several times had an opportunity of seeing my
men get fire by friction. A sharp-edged piece of bamboo is rubbed across
the convex surface of another piece, on which a small notch is first
cut. The rubbing is slow at first and gradually quicker, till it becomes
very rapid, and the fine powder rubbed off ignites and falls through the
hole which the rubbing has cut in the bamboo. This is done with great
quickness and certainty. The Ternate, people use bamboo in another way.
They strike its flinty surface with a bit of broken china, and produce a
spark, which they catch in some kind of tinder.

On the evening of October 21st we reached our destination, having been
twelve days on the voyage. It had been tine weather all the time, and,
although very hot, I had enjoyed myself exceedingly, and had besides
obtained some experience in boat work among islands and coral reefs,
which enabled me afterwards to undertake much longer voyages of the same
kind. The village or town of Batchian is situated at the head of a wide
and deep bay, where a low isthmus connects the northern and southern
mountainous parts of the island. To the south is a fine range of
mountains, and I had noticed at several of our landing-places that the
geological formation of the island was very different from those around
it. Whenever rock was visible it was either sandstone in thin layers,
dipping south, or a pebbly conglomerate. Sometimes there was a little
coralline limestone, but no volcanic rocks. The forest had a dense
luxuriance and loftiness seldom found on the dry and porous lavas and
raised coral reefs of Ternate and Gilolo; and hoping for a corresponding
richness in the birds and insects, it was with much satisfaction and
with considerable expectation that I began my explorations in the
hitherto unknown island of Batchian.



CHAPTER XXIV. BATCHIAN.

(OCTOBER 1858 To APRIL 1859.)

I LANDED opposite the house kept for the use of the Resident of Ternate,
and was met by a respectable middle-aged Malay, who told me he was
Secretary to the Sultan, and would receive the official letter with
which I had been provided. On giving it him, he at once informed me I
might have the use of the official residence which was empty. I soon got
my things on shore, but on looking about me found that the house would
never do to stay long in. There was no water except at a considerable
distance, and one of my men would be almost entirely occupied getting
water and firewood, and I should myself have to walk all through the
village every day to the forest, and live almost in public, a thing I
much dislike. The rooms were all boarded, and had ceilings, which are a
great nuisance, as there are no means of hanging anything up except
by driving nails, and not half the conveniences of a native bamboo
and thatch cottage. I accordingly inquired for a house outside of the
village on the road to the coal mines, and was informed by the Secretary
that there was a small one belonging to the Sultan, and that he would go
with me early next morning to see it.

We had to pass one large river, by a rude but substantial bridge, and
to wade through another fine pebbly stream of clear water, just beyond
which the little but was situated. It was very small, not raised on
posts, but with the earth for a floor, and was built almost entirely
of the leaf-stems of the sago-palm, called here "gaba-gaba." Across the
river behind rose a forest-clad bank, and a good road close in front of
the horse led through cultivated grounds to the forest about half a mile
on, and thence to the coal mines tour miles further. These advantages at
once decided me, and I told the Secretary I would be very glad to
occupy the house. I therefore sent my two men immediately to buy "ataps"
(palm-leaf thatch) to repair the roof, and the next day, with the
assistance of eight of the Sultan's men, got all my stores and furniture
carried up and pretty comfortably arranged. A rough bamboo bedstead was
soon constructed, and a table made of boards which I had brought with
me, fixed under the window. Two bamboo chairs, an easy cane chair, and
hanging shelves suspended with insulating oil cups, so as to be safe
from ants, completed my furnishing arrangements.

In the afternoon succeeding my arrival, the Secretary accompanied me
to visit the Sultan. We were kept waiting a few minutes in an outer
gate-house, and then ushered to the door of a rude, half-fortified
whitewashed house. A small table and three chairs were placed in a large
outer corridor, and an old dirty-faced man with grey hair and a grimy
beard, dressed in a speckled blue cotton jacket and loose red trousers,
came forward, shook hands, and asked me to be coated. After a quarter
of an hour's conversation on my pursuits, in which his Majesty seemed to
take great interest, tea and cakes-of rather better quality than usual
on such occasions-were brought in. I thanked him for the house, and
offered to show him my collections, which he promised to come and look
at. He then asked me to teach him to take views-to make maps-to get him
a small gun from England, and a milch-goat from Bengal; all of which
requests I evaded as skilfully as I was able, and we parted very good
friends. He seemed a sensible old man, and lamented the small population
of the island, which he assured me was rich in many valuable minerals,
including gold; but there were not people enough to look after them
and work them. I described to him the great rush of population on the
discovery of the Australian gold mines, and the huge nuggets found
there, with which he was much interested, and exclaimed, "Oh? if we had
but people like that, my country would be quite as rich."

The morning after I had got into my new house, I sent my boys out to
shoot, and went myself to explore the road to the coal mines. In less
than half a mile it entered the virgin forest, at a place where some
magnificent trees formed a kind of natural avenue. The first part was
flat and swampy, but it soon rose a little, and ran alongside the fine
stream which passed behind my house, and which here rushed and gurgled
over a rocky or pebbly bed, sometimes leaving wide sandbanks on its
margins, and at other places flowing between high banks crowned with
a varied and magnificent forest vegetation. After about two miles, the
valley narrowed, and the road was carried along the steep hill-side
which rose abruptly from the water's edge. In some places the rock had
been cut away, but its surface was already covered with elegant ferns
and creepers. Gigantic tree-ferns were abundant, and the whole forest
had an air of luxuriance and rich variety which it never attains in
the dry volcanic soil to which I had been lately accustomed. A little
further the road passed to the other side of the valley by a bridge
across the stream at a place where a great mass of rock in the middle
offered an excellent support for it, and two miles more of most
picturesque and interesting road brought me to the mining establishment.

This is situated in a large open space, at a spot where two tributaries
fall into the main stream. Several forest-paths and new clearings
offered fine collecting grounds, and I captured some new and interesting
insects; but as it was getting late I had to reserve a more thorough
exploration for future occasions. Coal had been discovered here some
years before, and the road was made in order to bring down a sufficient
quantity for a fair trial on the Dutch steamers. The quality, however,
was not thought sufficiently good, and the mines were abandoned. Quite
recently, works had been commenced in another spot, in Hopes of finding
a better vein. There ware about eighty men employed, chiefly convicts;
but this was far too small a number for mining operations in such a
country, where the mere keeping a few miles of road in repair requires
the constant work of several men. If coal of sufficiently good quality
should be found, a tramroad would be made, and would be very easily
worked, owing to the regular descent of the valley.

Just as I got home I overtook Ali returning from shooting with some
birch hanging from his belt. He seemed much pleased, and said, "Look
here, sir, what a curious bird," holding out what at first completely
puzzled me. I saw a bird with a mass of splendid green feathers on
its breast, elongated into two glittering tufts; but, what I could not
understand was a pair of long white feathers, which stuck straight out
from each shoulder. Ali assured me that the bird stuck them out this way
itself, when fluttering its wings, and that they had remained so without
his touching them. I now saw that I had got a great prize, no less than
a completely new form of the Bird of Paradise, differing most remarkably
from every other known bird. The general plumage is very sober, being
a pure ashy olive, with a purplish tinge on the back; the crown of the
head is beautifully glossed with pale metallic violet, and the feathers
of the front extend as much over the beak as inmost of the family. The
neck and breast are scaled with fine metallic green, and the feathers on
the lower part are elongated on each side, so as to form a two-pointed
gorget, which can be folded beneath the wings, or partially erected and
spread out in the same way as the side plumes of most of the birds of
paradise. The four long white plumes which give the bird its altogether
unique character, spring from little tubercles close to the upper edge
of the shoulder or bend of the wing; they are narrow, gentle curved, and
equally webbed on both sides, of a pure creamy white colour. They are
about six inches long, equalling the wing, and can be raised at right
angles to it, or laid along the body at the pleasure of the bird. The
bill is horn colour, the legs yellow, and the iris pale olive. This
striking novelty has been named by Mr. G. R. Gray of the British Museum,
Semioptera Wallacei, or "Wallace's Standard wing."

A few days later I obtained an exceedingly beautiful new butterfly,
allied to the fine blue Papilio Ulysses, but differing from it in the
colour being of a more intense tint, and in having a row of blue stripes
around the margin of the lower wings. This good beginning was, however,
rather deceptive, and I soon found that insects, and especially
butterflies, were somewhat scarce, and birds in tar less variety than
I had anticipated. Several of the fine Moluccan species were however
obtained. The handsome red lory with green wings and a yellow spot in
the back (Lorius garrulus), was not uncommon. When the Jambu, or rose
apple (Eugenic sp.), was in flower in the village, flocks of the little
lorikeet (Charmosyna placentis), already met with in Gilolo, came to
feed upon the nectar, and I obtained as many specimens as I desired.
Another beautiful bird of the parrot tribe was the Geoffroyus
cyanicollis, a green parrot with a red bill and head, which colour
shaded on the crown into azure blue, and thence into verditer blue
and the green of the back. Two large and handsome fruit pigeons, with
metallic green, ashy, and rufous plumage, were not uncommon; and I was
rewarded by finding a splendid deep blue roller (Eurystomus azureus);
a lovely golden-capped sunbird (Nectarinea auriceps), and a fine
racquet-tailed kingfisher (Tanysiptera isis), all of which were entirely
new to ornithologists. Of insects I obtained a considerable number of
interesting beetles, including many fine longicorns, among which was the
largest and handsomest species of the genus Glenea yet discovered. Among
butterflies the beautiful little Danis sebae was abundant, making the
forests gay with its delicate wings of white and the richest metallic
blue; while showy Papilios, and pretty Pieridae, and dark, rich
Euphaeas, many of them new, furnished a constant source of interest and
pleasing occupation.

The island of Batchian possesses no really indigenous inhabitants, the
interior being altogether uninhabited; and there are only a few small
villages on various parts of the coast; yet I found here four distinct
races, which would wofully mislead an ethnological traveller unable
to obtain information as to their origin, first there are the Batchian
Malays, probably the earliest colonists, differing very little from
those of Ternate. Their language, however, seems to have more of
the Papuan element, with a mixture of pure Malay, showing that
the settlement is one of stragglers of various races, although now
sufficiently homogeneous. Then there are the "Orang Sirani," as at
Ternate and Amboyna. Many of these have the Portuguese physiognomy
strikingly preserved, but combined with a skin generally darker than
the Malays. Some national customs are retained, and the Malay, which
is their only language, contains a large number of Portuguese words
and idioms. The third race consists of the Galela men from the north of
Gilolo, a singular people, whom I have already described; and the fourth
is a colony from Tomóre, in the eastern peninsula of Celebes. These
people were brought here at their own request a few years ago, to avoid
extermination by another tribe. They have a very light complexion, open
Tartar physiognomy, low stature, and a language of the Bugis type.
They are an industrious agricultural people, and supply the town with
vegetables. They make a good deal of bark cloth, similar to the tapa of
the Polynesians, by cutting down the proper trees and taping off large
cylinders of bark, which is beaten with mallets till it separates from
the wood. It is then soaked, and so continuously and regularly beaten
out that it becomes as thin and as tough as parchment. In this foam it
is much used for wrappers for clothes; and they also make jackets of it,
sewn neatly together and stained with the juice of another kind of bark,
which gives it a dark red colour and renders it nearly waterproof.

Here are four very distinct kinds of people who may all be seen any
day in and about the town of Batchian. Now if we suppose a traveller
ignorant of Malay, picking up a word or two here and there of
the "Batchian language," and noting down the "physical and moral
peculiarities, manners, and customs of the Batchian people"--(for
there are travellers who do all this in four-and-twenty hours)--what an
accurate and instructive chapter we should have' what transitions would
be pointed out, what theories of the origin of races would be developed
while the next traveller might flatly contradict every statement and
arrive at exactly opposite conclusions.

Soon after I arrived here the Dutch Government introduced a new copper
coinage of cents instead of doits (the 100th instead of the 120th part
of a guilder), and all the old coins were ordered to be sent to Ternate
to be changed. I sent a bag containing 6,000 doits, and duly received
the new money by return of the boat. Then Ali went to bring it, however,
the captain required a written order; so I waited to send again the next
day, and it was lucky I did so, for that night my house was entered, all
my boxes carried out and ransacked, and the various articles left on the
road about twenty yards off, where we found them at five in the morning,
when, on getting up and finding the house empty, we rushed out to
discover tracks of the thieves. Not being able to find the copper money
which they thought I had just received, they decamped, taking nothing
but a few yards of cotton cloth and a black coat and trousers, which
latter were picked up a few days afterwards hidden in the grass. There
was no doubt whatever who were the thieves. Convicts are employed to
guard the Government stores when the boat arrives from Ternate. Two of
them watch all night, and often take the opportunity to roam about and
commit robberies.

The next day I received my money, and secured it well in a strong box
fastened under my bed. I took out five or six hundred cents for daily
expenses, and put them in a small japanned box, which always stood upon
my table. In the afternoon I went for a short walk, and on my return
this box and my keys, which I had carelessly left on the table, were
gone. Two of my boys were in the house, but had heard nothing. I
immediately gave information of the two robberies to the Director at the
mines and to the Commandant at the fort, and got for answer, that if
I caught the thief in the act I might shoot him. By inquiry in the
village, we afterwards found that one of the convicts who was on duty at
the Government rice-store in the village had quitted his guard, was
seen to pass over the bridge towards my house, was seen again within
two hundred yards of my house, and on returning over the bridge into
the village carried something under his arm, carefully covered with
his sarong. My box was stolen between the hours he was seen going
and returning, and it was so small as to be easily carried in the way
described. This seemed pretty clear circumstantial evidence. I accused
the man and brought the witnesses to the Commandant. The man was
examined, and confessed having gone to the river close to my house to
bathe; but said he had gone no farther, having climbed up a cocoa-nut
tree and brought home two nuts, which he had covered over, _because
he was ashamed to be seen carrying them!_ This explanation was thought
satisfactory, and he was acquitted. I lost my cash and my box, a seal
I much valued, with other small articles, and all my keys-the severest
loss by far. Luckily my large cash-box was left locked, but so were
others which I required to open immediately. There was, however, a very
clever blacksmith employed to do ironwork for the mines, and he picked
my locks for me when I required them, and in a few days made me new
keys, which I used all the time I was abroad.

Towards the end of November the wet season set in, and we had daily and
almost incessant rains, with only about one or two hours' sunshine in
the morning. The flat parts of the forest became flooded, the roads
filled with mud, and insects and birds were scarcer than ever. On
December Lath, in the afternoon, we had a sharp earthquake shock, which
made the house and furniture shale and rattle for five minutes, and the
trees and shrubs wave as if a gust of wind had passed over them. About
the middle of December I removed to the village, in order more easily
to explore the district to the west of it, and to be near the sea when I
wished to return to Ternate. I obtained the use of a good-sized house in
the Campong Sirani (or Christian village), and at Christmas and the New
Year had to endure the incessant gun-firing, drum-beating, and fiddling
of the inhabitants.

These people are very fond of music and dancing, and it would astonish
a European to visit one of their assemblies. We enter a gloomy palm-leaf
hut, in which two or three very dim lamps barely render darkness
visible. The floor is of black sandy earth, the roof hid in a smoky
impenetrable blackness; two or three benches stand against the walls,
and the orchestra consists of a fiddle, a fife, a drum, and a triangle.
There is plenty of company, consisting of young men and women, all very
neatly dressed in white and black--a true Portuguese habit. Quadrilles,
waltzes, polkas, and mazurkas are danced with great vigour and much
skill. The refreshments are muddy coffee and a few sweetmeats. Dancing
is kept up for hours, and all is conducted with much decorum and
propriety. A party of this kind meets about once a week, the principal
inhabitants taking it by turns, and all who please come in without much
ceremony.

It is astonishing how little these people have altered in three hundred
years, although in that time they have changed their language and lost
all knowledge of their own nationality. They are still in manners and
appearance almost pure Portuguese, very similar to those with whom I had
become acquainted on the banks of the Amazon. They live very poorly as
regards their house and furniture, but preserve a semi-European dress,
and have almost all full suits of black for Sundays. They are nominally
Protestants, but Sunday evening is their grand day for music and
dancing. The men are often good hunters; and two or three times a week,
deer or wild pigs are brought to the village, which, with fish and
fowls, enables them to live well. They are almost the only people in
the Archipelago who eat the great fruit-eating bats called by us "flying
foxes." These ugly creatures are considered a great delicacy, and are
much sought after. At about the beginning of the year they come in large
flocks to eat fruit, and congregate during the day on some small islands
in the bay, hanging by thousands on the trees, especially on dead ones.
They can then be easily caught or knocked down with sticks, and are
brought home by basketsfull. They require to be carefully prepared,
as the skin and fur has a rank end powerful foxy odour; but they are
generally cooked with abundance of spices and condiments, and are really
very good eating, something like hare. The Orang Sirani are good cooks,
having a much greater variety of savoury dishes than the Malays. Here,
they live chiefly on sago as bread, with a little rice occasionally, and
abundance of vegetables and fruit.

It is a curious fact that everywhere in the Past where the Portuguese
have mixed with the native races they leave become darker in colour than
either of the parent stocks. This is the case almost always with these
"Orang Sirani" in the Moluccas, and with the Portuguese of Malacca.
The reverse is the case in South America, where the mixture of the
Portuguese or Brazilian with the Indian produces the "Mameluco," who is
not unfrequently lighter than either parent, and always lighter than the
Indian. The women at Batchian, although generally fairer than the men,
are coarse in features, and very far inferior in beauty to the mixed
Dutch-Malay girls, or even to many pure Malays.

The part of the village in which I resided was a grove of cocoa-nut
trees, and at night, when the dead leaves were sometimes collected
together and burnt, the effect was most magnificent--the tall stems,
the fine crowns of foliage, and the immense fruit-clusters, being
brilliantly illuminated against a dark sky, and appearing like a fairy
palace supported on a hundred columns, and groined over with leafy
arches. The cocoa-nut tree, when well grown, is certainly the prince of
palms both for beauty and utility.

During my very first walk into the forest at Batchian, I had seen
sitting on a leaf out of reach, an immense butterfly of a dark colour
marked with white and yellow spots. I could not capture it as it flew
away high up into the forest, but I at once saw that it was a female of
a new species of Ornithoptera or "bird-winged butterfly," the pride of
the Eastern tropics. I was very anxious to get it and to find the
male, which in this genus is always of extreme beauty. During the two
succeeding months I only saw it once again, and shortly afterwards I saw
the male flying high in the air at the mining village. I had begun to
despair of ever getting a specimen, as it seemed so rare and wild; till
one day, about the beginning of January, I found a beautiful shrub with
large white leafy bracts and yellow flowers, a species of Mussaenda, and
saw one of these noble insects hovering over it, but it was too quick
for me, and flew away. The next clay I went again to the same shrub and
succeeded in catching a female, and the day after a fine male. I
found it to be as I had expected, a perfectly new and most magnificent
species, and one of the most gorgeously coloured butterflies in the
world. Fine specimens of the male are more than seven inches across
the wings, which are velvety black and fiery orange, the latter colour
replacing the green of the allied species. The beauty and brilliancy of
this insect are indescribable, and none but a naturalist can understand
the intense excitement I experienced when I at length captured it. On
taking it out of my net and opening the glorious wings, my heart began
to beat violently, the blood rushed to my head, and I felt much more
like fainting than I have done when in apprehension of immediate death.
I had a headache the rest of the day, so great was the excitement
produced by what will appear to most people a very inadequate cause.

I had decided to return to Ternate in a week or two more, but this grand
capture determined me to stay on till I obtained a good series of
the new butterfly, which I have since named Ornithoptera croesus. The
Mussaenda bush was an admirable place, which I could visit every day
on my way to the forest; and as it was situated in a dense thicket of
shrubs and creepers, I set my man Lahi to clear a space all round it, so
that I could easily get at any insect that might visit it. Afterwards,
finding that it was often necessary to wait some time there, I had a
little seat put up under a tree by the side of it, where I came every
day to eat my lunch, and thus had half an hour's watching about noon,
besides a chance as I passed it in the morning. In this way I obtained
on an average one specimen a day for a long time, but more than half
of these were females, and more than half the remainder worn or broken
specimens, so that I should not have obtained many perfect males had I
not found another station for them.

As soon as I had seen them come to flowers, I sent my man Lahi with a
net on purpose to search for them, as they had also been seen at some
flowering trees on the beach, and I promised him half a day's wages
extra for every good specimen he could catch. After a day or two he
brought me two very fair specimens, and told me he had caught them in
the bed of a large rocky stream that descends from the mountains to the
sea abort a mile below the village. They flew down this river, settling
occasionally on stones and rocks in the water, and he was obliged to
wade up it or jump from rock to rock to get at them. I went with him
one day, but found that the stream was far too rapid and the stones too
slippery for me to do anything, so I left it entirely to him, and all
the rest of the time we stayed in Batchian he used to be out all day,
generally bringing me one, and on good days two or three specimens. I
was thus able to bring away with me more than a hundred of both sexes,
including perhaps twenty very fine males, though not more than five or
six that were absolutely perfect.

My daily walk now led me, first about half a mile along the sandy beach,
then through a sago swamp over a causeway of very shaky poles to the
village of the Tomore people. Beyond this was the forest with patches of
new clearing, shady paths, and a considerable quantity of felled timber.
I found this a very fair collecting ground, especially for beetles.
The fallen trunks in the clearings abounded with golden Buprestidae
and curious Brenthidae, and longicorns, while in the forest I found
abundance of the smaller Curculionidae, many longicorns, and some fine
green Carabidae.

Butterflies were not abundant, but I obtained a few more of the fine
blue Papilio, and a number of beautiful little Lycaenidae, as well as a
single specimen of the very rare Papilio Wallacei, of which I had taken
the hitherto unique specimen in the Aru Islands.

The most interesting birds I obtained here, were the beautiful blue
kingfisher, Todiramphus diops; the fine green and purple doves,
Ptilonopus superbus and P. iogaster, and several new birds of small
size. My shooters still brought me in specimens of the Semioptera
Wallacei, and I was greatly excited by the positive statements of
several of the native hunters that another species of this bird existed,
much handsomer and more remarkable. They declared that the plumage was
glossy black, with metallic green breast as in my species, but that the
white shoulder plumes were twice as long, and hung down far below the
body of the bird. They declared that when hunting pigs or deer far in
the forest they occasionally saw this bird, but that it was rare. I
immediately offered twelve guilders (a pound) for a specimen; but all in
vain, and I am to this day uncertain whether such a bird exists. Since
I left, the German naturalist, Dr. Bernstein, stayed many months in the
island with a large staff of hunters collecting for the Leyden Museum;
and as he was not more successful than myself, we must consider either
that the bird is very rare, or is altogether a myth.

Batchian is remarkable as being the most eastern point on the globe
inhabited by any of the Quadrumana. A large black baboon-monkey
(Cynopithecus nigrescens) is abundant in some parts of the forest. This
animal has bare red callosities, and a rudimentary tail about an inch
long--a mere fleshy tubercle, which may be very easily overlooked. It is
the same species that is found all over the forests of Celebes, and
as none of the other Mammalia of that island extend into Batchian I am
inclined to suppose that this species has been accidentally introduced
by the roaming Malays, who often carry about with them tame monkeys
and other animals. This is rendered more probable by the fact that the
animal is not found in Gilolo, which is only separated from Batchian by
a very narrow strait. The introduction may have been very recent, as in
a fertile and unoccupied island such an animal would multiply rapidly.
The only other mammals obtained were an Eastern opossum, which Dr. Gray
has described as Cuscus ornatus; the little flying opossum, Belideus
ariel; a Civet cat, Viverra zebetha; and nice species of bats, most of
the smaller ones being caught in the dusk with my butterfly net as they
flew about before the house.

After much delay, owing to bad weather and the illness of one of my men,
I determined to visit Kasserota (formerly the chief village), situated
up a small stream, on an island close to the north coast of Batchian;
where I was told that many rare birds were found. After my boat was
loaded and everything ready, three days of heavy squalls prevented our
starting, and it was not till the 21st of March that we got away.
Early next morning we entered the little river, and in about an hour we
reached the Sultan's house, which I had obtained permission to use. It
was situated on the bank of the river, and surrounded by a forest
of fruit trees, among which were some of the very loftiest and most
graceful cocoa-nut palms I have ever seen. It rained nearly all that
day, and I could do little but unload and unpack. Towards the afternoon
it cleared up, and I attempted to explore in various directions, but
found to my disgust that the only path was a perfect mud swamp, along
which it was almost impossible to walk, and the surrounding forest so
damp and dark as to promise little in the way of insects. I found too on
inquiry that the people here made no clearings, living entirely on sago,
fruit, fish, and game; and the path only led to a steep rocky mountain
equally impracticable and unproductive. The next day I sent my men to
this hill, hoping it might produce some good birds; but they returned
with only two common species, and I myself had been able to get nothing;
every little track I had attempted to follow leading to a dense sago
swamp. I saw that I should waste time by staying here, and determined to
leave the following day.

This is one of those spots so hard for the European naturalist to
conceive, where with all the riches of a tropical vegetation, and partly
perhaps from the very luxuriance of that vegetation, insects are
as scarce as in the most barren parts of Europe, and hardly more
conspicuous. In temperate climates there is a tolerable uniformity in
the distribution of insects over those parts of a country in which there
is a similarity in the vegetation, any deficiency being easily accounted
for by the absence of wood or uniformity of surface. The traveller
hastily passing through such a country can at once pick out a collecting
ground which will afford him a fair notion of its entomology. Here the
case is different. There are certain requisites of a good collecting
ground which can only be ascertained to exist by some days' search in
the vicinity of each village. In some places there is no virgin forest,
as at Djilolo and Sahoe; in others there are no open pathways or
clearings, as here. At Batchian there are only two tolerable collecting
places,--the road to the coal mines, and the new clearings made by the
Tomóre people, the latter being by far the most productive. I believe
the fact to be that insects are pretty uniformly distributed over these
countries (where the forests have not been cleared away), and are so
scarce in any one spot that searching for them is almost useless. If the
forest is all cleared away, almost all the insects disappear with it;
but when small clearings and paths are made, the fallen trees in various
stages of drying and decay, the rotting leaves, the loosening bark and
the fungoid growths upon it, together with the flowers that appear
in much greater abundance where the light is admitted, are so many
attractions to the insects for miles around, and cause a wonderful
accumulation of species and individuals. When the entomologist can
discover such a spot, he does more in a mouth than he could possibly do
by a year's search in the depths of the undisturbed forest.

The next morning we left early, and reached the mouth of the little
river in about au hour. It flows through a perfectly flat alluvial
plain, but there are hills which approach it near the mouth. Towards the
lower part, in a swamp where the salt-water must enter at high tides,
were a number of elegant tree-ferns from eight to fifteen feet high.
These are generally considered to be mountain plants, and rarely to
occur on the equator at an elevation of less than one or two thousand
feet. In Borneo, in the Aru Islands, and on the banks of the Amazon, I
have observed them at the level of the sea, and think it probable that
the altitude supposed to be requisite for them may have been deduced
from facts observed in countries where the plains and lowlands are
largely cultivated, and most of the indigenous vegetation destroyed.
Such is the case in most parts of Java, India, Jamaica, and Brazil,
where the vegetation of the tropics has been most fully explored.

Coming out to sea we turned northwards, and in about two hours'
sail reached a few huts, called Langundi, where some Galela men had
established themselves as collectors of gum-dammar, with which they made
torches for the supply of the Ternate market. About a hundred yards back
rises a rather steep hill, and a short walk having shown me that there
was a tolerable path up it, I determined to stay here for a few days.
Opposite us, and all along this coast of Batchian, stretches a row of
fine islands completely uninhabited. Whenever I asked the reason why
no one goes to live in them, the answer always was, "For fear of the
Magindano pirates." Every year these scourges of the Archipelago wander
in one direction or another, making their rendezvous on some uninhabited
island, and carrying devastation to all the small settlements around;
robbing, destroying, killing, or taking captive all they nee with. Their
long well-manned praus escape from the pursuit of any sailing vessel by
pulling away right in the wind's eye, and the warning smoke of a steamer
generally enables them to hide in some shallow bay, or narrow river, or
forest-covered inlet, till the danger is passed. The only effectual way
to put a stop to their depredations would be to attack them in their
strongholds and villages, and compel them to give up piracy, and submit
to strict surveillance. Sir James Brooke did this with the pirates of
the north-west coast of Borneo, and deserves the thanks of the whole
population of the Archipelago for having rid them of half their enemies.

All along the beach here, and in the adjacent strip of sandy lowland, is
a remarkable display of Pandanaceae or Screw-pines. Some are like huge
branching candelabra, forty or fifty feet high, and bearing at the
end of each branch a tuft of immense sword-shaped leaves, six or eight
inches wide, and as many feet long. Others have a single unbranched
stem, six or seven feet high, the upper part clothed with the spirally
arranged leaves, and bearing a single terminal fruit ac large as a
swan's egg. Others of intermediate size have irregular clusters of rough
red fruits, and all have more or less spiny-edged leaves and ringed
stems. The young plants of the larger species have smooth glossy thick
leaves, sometimes ten feet long and eight inches wide, which are used
all over the Moluccas and New Guinea, to make "cocoyas" or sleeping
mats, which are often very prettily ornamented with coloured patterns.
Higher up on the bill is a forest of immense trees, among which those
producing the resin called dammar (Dammara sp.) are abundant. The
inhabitants of several small villages in Batchian are entirely engaged
in searching for this product, and making it into torches by pounding
it and filling it into tubes of palm leaves about a yard long, which
are the only lights used by many of the natives. Sometimes the dammar
accumulates in large masses of ten or twenty pounds weight, either
attached to the trunk, or found buried in the ground at the foot of the
trees. The most extraordinary trees of the forest are, however, a kind
of fig, the aerial roots of which form a pyramid near a hundred feet
high, terminating just where the tree branches out above, so that there
is no real trunk. This pyramid or cone is formed of roots of every size,
mostly descending in straight lines, but more or less obliquely-and so
crossing each other, and connected by cross branches, which grow from
one to another; as to form a dense and complicated network, to which
nothing but a photograph could do justice (see illustration at Vol. I.
page 130). The Kanary is also abundant in this forest, the nut of which
has a very agreeable flavour, and produces an excellent oil. The fleshy
outer covering of the nut is the favourite food of the great green
pigeons of these islands (Carpophaga, perspicillata), and their
hoarse copings and heavy flutterings among the branches can be almost
continually heard.

After ten days at Langundi, finding it impossible to get the bird I was
particularly in search of (the Nicobar pigeon, or a new species allied
to it), and finding no new birds, and very few insects, I left early on
the morning of April 1st, and in the evening entered a river on the
main island of Batchian (Langundi, like Kasserota, being on a distinct
island), where some Malays and Galela men have a small village, and have
made extensive rice-fields and plantain grounds. Here we found a good
house near the river bank, where the water was fresh and clear, and the
owner, a respectable Batchian Malay, offered me sleeping room and the
use of the verandah if I liked to stay. Seeing forest all round within
a short distance, I accepted his offer, and the next morning before
breakfast walked out to explore, and on the skirts of the forest
captured a few interesting insects.

Afterwards, I found a path which led for a mile or more through a very
fine forest, richer in palms than any I had seen in the Moluccas. One of
these especially attracted my attention from its elegance. The stein was
not thicker than my wrist, yet it was very lofty, and bore clusters
of bright red fruit. It was apparently a species of Areca. Another of
immense height closely resembled in appearance the Euterpes of South
America. Here also grew the fan-leafed palm, whose small, nearly
entire leaves are used to make the dammar torches, and to form the
water-buckets in universal use. During this walk I saw near a dozen
species of palms, as well as two or three Pandani different from those
of Langundi. There were also some very fine climbing ferns and true wild
Plantains (Musa), bearing an edible fruit not so large as one's thumb,
and consisting of a mass of seeds just covered with pulp and skin.
The people assured me they had tried the experiment of sowing and
cultivating this species, but could not improve it. They probably did
not grow it in sufficient quantity, and did not persevere sufficiently
long.

Batchian is an island that would perhaps repay the researches of a
botanist better than any other in the whole Archipelago. It contains
a great variety of surface and of soil, abundance of large and small
streams, many of which are navigable for some distance, and there being
no savage inhabitants, every part of it can be visited with perfect
safety. It possesses gold, copper, and coal, hot springs and geysers,
sedimentary and volcanic rocks and coralline limestone, alluvial plains,
abrupt hills and lofty mountains, a moist climate, and a grand and
luxuriant forest vegetation.

The few days I stayed here produced me several new insects, but scarcely
any birds. Butterflies and birds are in fact remarkably scarce in these
forests. One may walk a whole day and not see more than two or three
species of either. In everything but beetles, these eastern islands are
very deficient compared with the western (Java, Borneo, &c.), and much
more so if compared with the forests of South America, where twenty or
thirty species of butterflies may be caught every day, and on very
good days a hundred, a number we can hardly reach here in months of
unremitting search. In birds there is the same difference. In most
parts of tropical America we may always find some species of
woodpecker tanager, bush shrike, chatterer, trogon, toucan, cuckoo,
and tyrant-flycatcher; and a few days' active search will produce more
variety than can be here met with in as many months. Yet, along with
this poverty of individuals and of species, there are in almost every
class and order, some one, or two species of such extreme beauty or
singularity, as to vie with, or even surpass, anything that even South
America can produce.

One afternoon when I was arranging my insects, and surrounded by a crowd
of wondering spectators, I showed one of them how to look at a small
insect with a hand-lens, which caused such evident wonder that all the
rest wanted to see it too. I therefore fixed the glass firmly to a piece
of soft wood at the proper focus, and put under it a little spiny
beetle of the genus Hispa, and then passed it round for examination. The
excitement was immense. Some declared it was a yard long; others were
frightened, and instantly dropped it, and all were as much astonished,
and made as much shouting and gesticulation, as children at a pantomime,
or at a Christmas exhibition of the oxyhydrogen microscope. And all
this excitement was produced by a little pocket lens, an inch and a half
focus, and therefore magnifying only four or five times, but which to
their unaccustomed eyes appeared to enlarge a hundred fold.

On the last day of my stay here, one of my hunters succeeded in finding
and shooting the beautiful Nicobar pigeon, of which I had been so long
in search. None of the residents had ever seen it, which shows that it
is rare and slay. My specimen was a female in beautiful condition, and
the glassy coppery and green of its plumage, the snow-white tail
and beautiful pendent feathers of the neck, were greatly admired. I
subsequently obtained a specimen in New Guinea; and once saw it in the
Kaióa islands. It is found also in some small islands near Macassar, in
others near Borneo; and in the Nicobar islands, whence it receives its
name. It is a ground feeder, only going upon trees to roost, and is a
very heavy fleshy bird. This may account far the fact of its being
found chiefly on very small islands, while in the western half of the
Archipelago, it seems entirely absent from the larger ones. Being a
ground feeder it is subject to the attacks of carnivorous quadrupeds,
which are not found in the very small islands. Its wide distribution
over the whole length of the Archipelago; from extreme west to east, is
however very extraordinary, since, with the exception of a few of
the birds of prey, not a single land bird has so wide a range.
Ground-feeding birds are generally deficient in power of extended
flight, and this species is so bulky and heavy that it appears at first
sight quite unable to fly a mile. A closer examination shows, however,
that its wings are remarkably large, perhaps in proportion to its size
larger than those of any other pigeon, and its pectoral muscles
are immense. A fact communicated to me by the son of my friend Mr.
Duivenboden of Ternate, would show that, in accordance with these
peculiarities of structure, it possesses the power of flying long
distances. Mr. D. established an oil factory on a small coral island, a
hundred miles north of New Guinea, with no intervening land. After the
island had been settled a year, and traversed in every direction, his
son paid it a visit; and just as the schooner was coming to an anchor,
a bird was seen flying from seaward which fell into the water exhausted
before it could reach the shore. A boat was sent to pick it up, and it
was found to be a Nicobar pigeon, which must have come from New Guinea,
and flown a hundred miles, since no such bird previously inhabited the
island.

This is certainly a very curious case of adaptation to an unusual and
exceptional necessity. The bird does not ordinarily require great powers
of flight, since it lives in the forest, feeds on fallen fruits, and
roosts in low trees like other ground pigeons. The majority of the
individuals, therefore, can never make full use of their enormously
powerful wings, till the exceptional case occurs of an individual
being blown out to sea, or driven to emigrate by the incursion of some
carnivorous animal, or the pressure of scarcity of food. A modification
exactly opposite to that which produced the wingless birds (the Apteryx,
Cassowary, and Dodo), appears to have here taken place; and it is
curious that in both cases an insular habitat should have been the
moving cause. The explanation is probably the same as that applied
by Mr. Darwin to the case of the Madeira beetles, many of which are
wingless, while some of the winged ones have the wings better developed
than the same species on the continent. It was advantageous to these
insects either never to fly at all, and thus not run the risk of being
blown out to sea, or to fly so well as to be able either to return to
land, or to migrate safely to the continent. Pad flying was worse
than not flying at all. So, while in such islands as New Zealand and
Mauritius far from all land, it was safer for a ground-feeding bird not
to fly at all, and the short-winged individuals continually surviving,
prepared the way for a wingless group of birds; in a vast Archipelago
thickly strewn with islands and islets it was advantageous to be able
occasionally to migrate, and thus the long and strong-winged varieties
maintained their existence longest, and ultimately supplanted all
others, and spread the race over the whole Archipelago.

Besides this pigeon, the only new bird I obtained during the trip was
a rare goat-sucker (Batrachostomus crinifrons), the only species of the
genus yet found in the Moluccas. Among my insects the best were the rare
Pieris arum, of a rich chrome yellow colour, with a black border and
remarkable white antenna--perhaps the very finest butterfly of the
genus; and a large black wasp-like insect, with immense jaws like a
stag-beetle, which has been named Megachile Pluto by Mr. B. Smith. I
collected about a hundred species of beetles quite new to me, but mostly
very minute, and also many rare and handsome ones which I had already
found in Batchian. On the whole I was tolerably satisfied with my
seventeen days' excursion, which was a very agreeable one, and enabled
me to sea a good deal of the island. I had hired a roomy boat, and
brought with me a small table and my rattan chair. These were great
comforts, as, wherever there was a roof, I could immediately instal
myself, and work and eat at ease. When I could not find accommodation on
shore I slept in the boat, which was always drawn up on the beach if we
stayed for a few days at one spot.

On my return to Batchian I packed up my collections, and prepared for
my return to Ternate. When I first came I had sent back my boat by the
pilot, with two or three other men who had been glad of the opportunity.
I now took advantage of a Government boat which had just arrived with
rice for the troops, and obtained permission to return in her, and
accordingly started on the 13th of April, having resided only a week
short of six months on the island of Batchian. The boat was one of
the kind called "Kora-kora," quite open, very low, and about four tons
burthen. It had outriggers of bamboo about five feet off each side,
which supported a bamboo platform extending the whole length of the
vessel. On the extreme outside of this sit the twenty rowers, while
within was a convenient passage fore and aft. The middle portion of the
boat was covered with a thatch-house, in which baggage and passengers
are stowed; the gunwale was not more than a foot above water, and from
the great top and side weight, and general clumsiness, these boats are
dangerous in heavy weather, and are not unfrequently lost. A triangle
mast and mat sail carried us on when the wind was favourable,--which
(as usual) it never was, although, according to the monsoon, it ought to
have been. Our water, carried in bamboos, would only last two days, and
as the voyage occupied seven, we had to touch at a great many places.
The captain was not very energetic, and the men rowed as little as they
pleased, or we might have reached Ternate in three days, having had fine
weather and little wind all the way.

There were several passengers besides myself: three or four Javanese
soldiers, two convicts whose time had expired (one, curiously enough,
being the man who had stolen my cash-box and keys), the schoolmaster's
wife and a servant going on a visit to Ternate, and a Chinese trader
going to buy goods. We had to sleep all together in the cabin, packed
pretty close; but they very civilly allowed me plenty of room for my
mattrass, and we got on very well together. There was a little cookhouse
in the bows, where we could boil our rice and make our coffee, every one
of course bringing his own provisions, and arranging his meal-times as
he found most convenient. The passage would have been agreeable enough
but for the dreadful "tom-toms," or wooden drums, which are beaten
incessantly while the men are rowing. Two men were engaged constantly at
them, making a fearful din the whole voyage. The rowers are men sent by
the Sultan of Ternate. They get about threepence a day, and find their
own provisions. Each man had a strong wooden "betel" box, on which he
generally sat, a sleeping-mat, and a change of clothes--rowing naked,
with only a sarong or a waistcloth. They sleep in their places, covered
with their mat, which keeps out the rain pretty well. They chew betel
or smoke cigarettes incessantly; eat dry sago and a little salt fish;
seldom sing while rowing, except when excited and wanting to reach a
stopping-place, and do not talk a great deal. They are mostly Malays,
with a sprinkling of Alfuros from Gilolo, and Papuans from Guebe or
Waigiou.

One afternoon we stayed at Makian; many of the men went on shore, and
a great deal of plantains, bananas, and other fruits were brought on
board. We then went on a little way, and in the evening anchored again.
When going to bed for the night, I put out my candle, there being still
a glimmering lamp burning, and, missing my handkerchief, thought I saw
it on a box which formed one side of my bed, and put out my hand to take
it. I quickly drew back on feeling something cool and very smooth, which
moved as I touched it. "Bring the light, quick," I cried; "here's a
snake." And there he was, sure enough, nicely coiled up, with his head
just raised to inquire who had disturbed him. It was mow necessary
to catch or kill him neatly, or he would escape among the piles of
miscellaneous luggage, and we should hardly sleep comfortably. One of
the ex-convicts volunteered to catch him with his hand wrapped up in a
cloth, but from the way he went about it I saw he was nervous and would
let the thing go, so I would mot allow him to make the attempt. I them
got a chopping-knife, and carefully moving my insect nets, which hung
just over the snake and prevented me getting a free blow, I cut him
quietly across the back, holding him down while my boy with another
knife crushed his head. On examination, I found he had large poison
fangs, and it is a wonder he did not bite me when I first touched him.

Thinking it very unlikely that two snakes had got on board at the same
time, I turned in and went to sleep; but having all the time a vague
dreamy idea that I might put my hand on another one, I lay wonderfully
still, not turning over once all night, quite the reverse of my usual
habits. The next day we reached Ternate, and I ensconced myself in my
comfortable house, to examine all my treasures, and pack them securely
for the voyage home.



CHAPTER XXV. CERAM, GORAM, AND THE MATABELLO ISLANDS.

(OCTOBER 1859 To JUNE 1860.)

I LEFT Amboyna for my first visit to Ceram at three o'clock in the
morning of October 29th, after having been delayed several days by the
boat's crew, who could not be got together. Captain Van der Beck, who
gave me a passage in his boat, had been running after them all day, and
at midnight we had to search for two of my men who had disappeared at
the last moment. One we found at supper in his own house, and rather
tipsy with his parting libations of arrack, but the other was gone
across the bay, and we were obliged to leave without him. We stayed some
hours at two villages near the east end of Amboyna, at one of which we
had to discharge some wood for the missionaries' house, and on the
third afternoon reached Captain Van der Beck's plantation, situated at
Hatosua, in that part of Ceram opposite to the island of Amboyna. This
was a clearing in flat and rather swampy forest, about twenty acres
in extent, and mostly planted with cacao and tobacco. Besides a small
cottage occupied by the workmen, there was a large shed for tobacco
drying, a corner of which was offered me; and thinking from the look of
the place that I should find good collecting ground here, I fitted up
temporary tables, benches, and beds, and made all preparations for
some weeks' stay. A few days, however, served to show that I should be
disappointed. Beetles were tolerably abundant, and I obtained plenty of
fine long-horned Anthribidae and pretty Longicorns, but they were mostly
the same species as I had found during my first short visit to Amboyna.
There were very few paths in the forest; which seemed poor in birds and
butterflies, and day after day my men brought me nothing worth notice.
I was therefore soon obliged to think about changing my locality, as I
could evidently obtain no proper notion of the productions of the almost
entirely unexplored island of Ceram by staying in this place.

I rather regretted leaving, because my host was one of the most
remarkable men and most entertaining companions I had ever met with.
He was a Fleeting by birth, and, like so many of his countrymen, had a
wonderful talent for languages. When quite a youth he had accompanied a
Government official who was sent to report on the trade and commerce
of the Mediterranean, and had acquired the colloquial language of every
place they stayed a few weeks at. He had afterwards made voyages to
St. Petersburg, and to other parts of Europe, including a few weeks in
London, and had then come out to the past, where he had been for some
years trading and speculating in the various islands. He now spoke
Dutch, French, Malay, and Javanese, all equally well; English with
a very slight accent, but with perfect fluency, axed a most complete
knowledge of idiom, in which I often tried to puzzle him in vain. German
and Italian were also quite familiar to him, and his acquaintance
with European languages included Modern Greek, Turkish, Russian, and
colloquial Hebrew and Latin. As a test of his power, I may mention that
he had made a voyage to the out-of-the-way island of Salibaboo, and had
stayed there trading a few weeks. As I was collecting vocabularies,
he told me he thought he could remember some words, and dictated
considerable number. Some time after I met with a short list of words
taken down in those islands, and in every case they agreed with those
he had given me. He used to sing a Hebrew drinking-song, which he had
learned from some Jews with whom he had once travelled, and astonished
by joining in their conversation, and had a never-ending fund of tale
and anecdote about the people he had met and the places he had visited.

In most of the villages of this part of Ceram are schools and native
schoolmasters, and the inhabitants have been long converted to
Christianity. In the larger villages there are European missionaries;
but there is little or no external difference between the Christian and
Alfuro villages, nor, as far as I have seen, in their inhabitants. The
people seem more decidedly Papuan than those of Gilolo. They are darker
in colour, and a number of them have the frizzly Papuan hair; their
features also are harsh and prominent, and the women in particular are
far less engaging than those of the Malay race. Captain Van der Beck was
never tired of abusing the inhabitants of these Christian villages as
thieves, liars, and drunkards, besides being incorrigibly lazy. In the
city of Amboyna my friends Doctors Mohnike and Doleschall, as well
as most of the European residents and traders, made exactly the same
complaint, and would rather have Mahometans for servants, even if
convicts, than any of the native Christians. One great cause of this
is the fact, that with the Mahometans temperance is a part of their
religion, and has become so much a habit that practically the rule is
never transgressed. One fertile source of want, and one great incentive
to idleness and crime, is thus present with the one class, but absent
in the other; but besides this the Christians look upon themselves as
nearly the equals of the Europeans, who profess the same religion, and
as far superior to the followers of Islam, and are therefore prone to
despise work, and to endeavour to live by trade, or by cultivating their
own land. It need hardly be said that with people in this low state of
civilization religion is almost wholly ceremonial, and that neither
are the doctrines of Christianity comprehended, nor its moral precepts
obeyed. At the same time, as far as my own experience goes, I have found
the better class of "Orang Sirani" as civil, obliging, and industrious
as the Malays, and only inferior to them from their tendency to get
intoxicated.

Having written to the Assistant Resident of Saparua (who has
jurisdiction over the opposite part of the coast of Ceram) for a boat
to pursue my journey, I received one rather larger than necessary with a
crew of twenty men. I therefore bade adieu to my kind friend Captain Van
der Beck, and left on the evening after its arrival for the village of
Elpiputi, which we reached in two days. I had intended to stay here, but
not liking the appearance of the place, which seemed to have no virgin
forest near it, I determined to proceed about twelve miles further
up the bay of Amahay, to a village recently formed, and inhabited by
indigenes from the interior, and where some extensive cacao plantations
were being made by some gentlemen of Amboyna. I reached the place
(called Awaiya) the same afternoon, and with the assistance of Mr.
Peters (the manager of the plantations) and the native chief, obtained
a small house, got all my things on shore, and paid and discharged
my twenty boatmen, two of whom had almost driven me to distraction by
beating tom-toms the whole voyage.

I found the people here very nearly in a state of nature, and going
almost naked. The men wear their frizzly hair gathered into a flat
circular knot over the left temple, which has a very knowing look, and
in their ears cylinders of wood as thick as one's finger, and coloured
red at the ends. Armlets and anklets of woven grass or of silver, with
necklaces of beads or of small fruits, complete their attire. The women
wear similar ornaments, but have their hair loose. All are tall, with a
dark brown skin, and well marked Papuan physiognomy. There is an Amboyna
schoolmaster in the village, and a good number of children attend school
every morning. Such of the inhabitants as have become Christians may be
known by their wearing their hair loose, and adopting to some extent the
native Christian dress-trousers and a loose shirt. Very few speak Malay,
all these coast villages having been recently formed by inducing natives
to leave the inaccessible interior. In all the central part of Ceram
there new remains only one populous village in the mountains. Towards
the east and the extreme west are a few others, with which exceptions
all the inhabitants of Ceram are collected on the coast. In the northern
and eastern districts they are mostly Mahometans, while on the southwest
coast, nearest Amboyna, they are nominal Christians. In all this part of
the Archipelago the Dutch make very praiseworthy efforts to improve
the condition of the aborigines by establishing schoolmasters in every
village (who are mostly natives of Amboyna or Saparua, who have; been
instructed by the resident missionaries), and by employing native
vaccinators to prevent the ravages of smallpox. They also encourage the
settlement of Europeans, and the formation of new plantations of cacao
and coffee, one of the best means of raising the condition of the
natives, who thus obtain work at fair wages, and have the opportunity of
acquiring something of European tastes and habits.

My collections here did not progress much better than at my former
station, except that butterflies were a little more plentiful, and some
very fine species were to be found in the morning on the sea-beach,
sitting so quietly on the wet sand that they could be caught with the
fingers. In this way I had many fine specimens of Papilios brought me
by the children. Beetles, however, were scarce, and birds still more
so, and I began to think that the handsome species which I had so often
heard were found in Ceram must be entirely confined to the eastern
extremity of the island.

A few miles further worth, at the head of the Bay of Amahay, is situated
the village of Makariki, from whence there is a native path quite
across the island to the north coast. My friend Mr. Rosenberg, whose
acquaintance I had made at New Guinea, and who was now the Government
superintendent of all this part of Ceram, returned from Wahai, on the
north coast, after I had been three weeks at Awaiya, and showed me
some fine butterflies he had obtained on the mountain streams in the
interior. He indicated a spot about the centre of the island where he
thought I might advantageously stay a few days. I accordingly visited
Makariki with him the next day, and he instructed the chief of the
village to furnish me with men to carry my baggage, and accompany me
on my excursion. As the people of the village wanted to be at home on
Christmas-day, it was necessary to start as soon as possible; so we
agreed that the men should be ready in two days, and I returned to make
my arrangements.

I put up the smallest quantity of baggage possible for a six days'
trip, and on the morning of December 18th we left Makariki, with six men
carrying my baggage and their own provisions, and a lad from Awaiya,
who was accustomed to catch butterflies for me. My two Amboyna hunters
I left behind to shoot and skin what birds they could while I was away.
Quitting the village, we first walked briskly for an hour through a
dense tangled undergrowth, dripping wet from a storm of the previous
night, and full of mud holes. After crossing several small streams we
reached one of the largest rivers in Ceram, called Ruatan, which it was
necessary to cross. It was both deep and rapid. The baggage was first
taken over, parcel by parcel, on the men's heads, the water reaching
nearly up to their armpits, and then two men returned to assist me. The
water was above my waist, and so strong that I should certainly have
been carried off my feet had I attempted to cross alone; and it was a
matter of astonishment to me how the men could give me any assistance,
since I found the greatest difficulty in getting my foot down again when
I had once moved it off the bottom. The greater strength and grasping
power of their feet, from going always barefoot, no doubt gave them a
surer footing in the rapid water.

After well wringing out our wet clothes and putting them on, we again
proceeded along a similar narrow forest track as before, choked with
rotten leaves and dead trees, and in the more open parts overgrown with
tangled vegetation. Another hour brought us to a smaller stream flowing
in a wide gravelly bed, up which our road lay. Here w e stayed half an
hour to breakfast, and then went on, continually crossing the stream, or
walking on its stony and gravelly banks, till about noon, when it became
rocky and enclosed by low hills. A little further we entered a regular
mountain-gorge, and had to clamber over rocks, and every moment cross
and recross the water, or take short cuts through the forest. This
was fatiguing work; and about three in the afternoon, the sky being
overcast, and thunder in the mountains indicating an approaching storm,
we had to loon out for a camping place, and soon after reached one
of Mr. Rosenberg's old ones. The skeleton of his little sleeping-hut
remained, and my men cut leaves and made a hasty roof just as the
rain commenced. The baggage was covered over with leaves, and the men
sheltered themselves as they could till the storm was over, by which
time a flood came down the river, which effectually stopped our further
march, even had we wished to proceed. We then lighted fires; I made some
coffee, and my men roasted their fish and plantains, and as soon as it
was dark, we made ourselves comfortable for the night.

Starting at six the next morning, we had three hours of the same kind
of walking, during which we crossed the river at least thirty or forty
times, the water being generally knee-deep. This brought us to a place
where the road left the stream, and here we stopped to breakfast. We
then had a long walk over the mountain, by a tolerable path, which
reached an elevation of about fifteen hundred feet above the sea. Here I
noticed one of the smallest and most elegant tree ferns I had ever seen,
the stem being scarcely thicker than my thumb, yet reaching a height
of fifteen or twenty feet. I also caught a new butterfly of the genus
Pieris, and a magnificent female specimen of Papilio gambrisius, of
which I had hitherto only found the males, which are smaller and very
different in colour. Descending the other side of the ridge, by a very
steep path, we reached another river at a spot which is about the centre
of the island, and which was to be our resting place for two or three
days. In a couple of hour my men had built a little sleeping-shed
for me, about eight feet by four, with a bench of split poles, they
themselves occupying two or three smaller ones, which had been put up by
former passengers.

The river here was about twenty yards wide, running over a pebbly and
sometimes a rocky bed, and bordered by steep hills with occasionally
flat swampy spots between their base and the stream. The whole country
was one dense, Unbroken, and very damp and gloomy virgin forest. Just at
our resting-place there was a little bush-covered island in the middle
of the channel, so that the opening in the forest made by the river was
wider than usual, and allowed a few gleams of sunshine to penetrate.
Here there were several handsome butterflies flying about, the finest of
which, however, escaped me, and I never saw it again during my stay. In
the two days and a half which we remained here, I wandered almost all
day up and down the stream, searching after butterflies, of which I got,
in all, fifty or sixty specimens, with several species quite new to
me. There were many others which I saw only once, and did not capture,
causing me to regret that there was no village in these interior valleys
where I could stay a month. In the early part of each morning I went out
with my gun in search of birds, and two of my men were out almost all
day after deer; but we were all equally unsuccessful, getting absolutely
nothing the whole time we were in the forest. The only good bird seen
was the fine Amboyna lory, but these were always too high to shoot;
besides this, the great Moluccan hornbill, which I did not want, was
almost the only bird met with. I saw not a single ground-thrush, or
kingfisher, or pigeon; and, in fact, have never been in a forest so
utterly desert of animal life as this appeared to be. Even in all other
groups of insects, except butterflies, there was the same poverty. I
bad hoped to find some rare tiger beetles, as I had done in similar
situations in Celebes; but, though I searched closely in forest,
river-bed, and mountain-brook, I could find nothing but the two common
Amboyna species. Other beetles there were absolutely none.

The constant walking in water, and over rocks and pebbles, quite
destroyed the two pair of shoes I brought with me, so that, on my
return, they actually fell to pieces, and the last day I had to walk
in my stockings very painfully, and reached home quite lame. On our way
back from Makariki, as on our way there, we had storm and rain at sea,
and we arrived at Awaiya late in the evening, with all our baggage
drenched, and ourselves thoroughly uncomfortable. All the time I had
been in Ceram I had suffered much from the irritating bites of an
invisible acarus, which is worse than mosquitoes, ants, and every other
pest, because it is impossible to guard against them. This last journey
in the forest left me covered from head to foot with inflamed lumps,
which, after my return to Amboyna, produced a serious disease, confining
me to the house for nearly two months, a not very pleasant memento of my
first visit to Ceram, which terminated with the year 1859.

It was not till the 24th of February, 1860, that I started again,
intending to pass from village to village along the coast, staying where
I found a suitable locality. I had a letter from the Governor of the
Moluccas, requesting all the chiefs to supply me with boats and men to
carry me on my journey. The first boat took me in two days to Amahay,
on the opposite side of the bay to Awaiya. The chief here, wonderful to
relate, did not make any excuses for delay, but immediately ordered out
the boat which was to carry me on, put my baggage on hoard, set up mast
and sails after dark, and had the men ready that nigh; so that we were
actually on our way at five the next morning,--a display of energy
and activity I scarcely ever saw before in a native chief on such an
occasion. We touched at Cepa, and stayed for the night at Tamilan, the
first two Mahometan villages on the south coast of Ceram. The next day,
about noon, we reached Hoya, which was as Far as my present boat and
crew were going to take me. The anchorage is about a mile east of the
village, which is faced by coral reefs, and we had to wait for the
evening tide to move up and unload the boat into the strange rotten
wooden pavilion kept for visitors.

There was no boat here large enough to take my baggage; and although
two would have done very well, the Rajah insisted upon sending four. The
reason of this I found was, that there were four small villages under
his rule, and by sending a boat from each he would avoid the difficult
task of choosing two and letting off the others. I was told that at the
next village of Teluti there were plenty of Alfuros, and that I could
get abundance of Tories and other birds. The Rajah declared that
black and yellow Tories and black cockatoos were found there; but I am
inclined to think he knew very well he was telling me lies, and that
it was only a scheme to satisfy me with his plan of taking me to that
village, instead of a day's journey further on, as I desired. Here, as
at most of the villages, I was asked for spirits, the people being mere
nominal Mahometans, who confine their religion almost entirely to a
disgust at pork, and a few other forbidden articles of food. The next
morning, after much trouble, we got our cargoes loaded, and had a
delightful row across the deep bay of Teluti, with a view of the grand
central mountain-range of Ceram. Our four boats were rowed by sixty
men, with flags flying and tom-toms beating, as well as very vigorous
shouting and singing to keep up their spirits. The sea way smooth, the
morning bright, and the whole scene very exhilarating. On landing, the
Orang-kaya and several of the chief men, in gorgeous silk jackets,
were waiting to receive us, and conducted me to a house prepared for my
reception, where I determined to stay a few days, and see if the country
round produced anything new.

My first inquiries were about the lories, but I could get very little
satisfactory information. The only kinds known were the ring-necked lory
and the common red and green lorikeet, both common at Amboyna. Black
Tories and cockatoos were quite unknown. The Alfuros resided in the
mountains five or six days' journey away, and there were only one or
two live birds to be found in the village, and these were worthless. My
hunters could get nothing but a few common birds; and notwithstanding
fine mountains, luxuriant forests, and a locality a hundred miles
eastward, I could find no new insects, and extremely few even of the
common species of Amboyna and West Ceram. It was evidently no use
stopping at such a place, and I was determined to move on as soon as
possible.

The village of Teluti is populous, but straggling and very dirty. Sago
trees here cover the mountain side, instead of growing as usual in low
swamps; but a closer examination shows that they grow in swampy patches,
which have formed among the loose rocks that cover the ground, and which
are kept constantly full of moisture by the rains, and by the abundance
of rills which trickle down among them. This sago forms almost the whole
subsistence of the inhabitants, who appear to cultivate nothing but
a few small patches of maize and sweet potatoes. Hence, as before
explained, the scarcity of insects. The Orang-kaya has fine clothes,
handsome lamps, and other expensive European goods, yet lives every day
on sago and fish as miserably as the rest.

After three days in this barren place I left on the morning of March
6th, in two boats of the same size as those which had brought me to
Teluti. With some difficulty I had obtained permission to take these
boats on to Tobo, where I intended to stay a while, and therefore got on
pretty quickly, changing men at the village of Laiemu, and arriving in a
heavy rain at Ahtiago. As there was a good deal of surf here, and likely
to be more if the wind blew hard during the night, our boats were
pulled up on the beach; and after supping at the Orang-kaya's house, and
writing down a vocabulary of the language of the Alfuros, who live in
the mountains inland, I returned to sleep in the boat. Next morning we
proceeded, changing men at Warenama, and again at Hatometen, at both of
which places there was much surf and no harbour, so that the men had to
go on shore and come on board by swimming. Arriving in the evening of
March 7th at Batuassa, the first village belonging to the Rajah of Tobo,
and under the government of Banda, the surf was very heavy, owing to a
strong westward swell. We therefore rounded the rocky point on which the
village was situated, but found it very little better on the other side.
We were obliged, however, to go on shore here; and waiting till the
people on the beach had made preparations, by placing a row of logs from
the water's edge on which to pull up our boats, we rowed as quickly as
we could straight on to them, after watching till the heaviest surfs
had passed. The moment we touched ground our men all jumped out, and,
assisted by those on shore, attempted to haul up the boat high and dry,
but not having sufficient hands, the surf repeatedly broke into the
stern. The steepness of the beach, however, prevented any damage being
done, and the other boat having both crews to haul at it, was got up
without difficulty.

The next morning, the water being low, the breakers were at some
distance from shore, and we had to watch for a smooth moment after
bringing the boats to the water's edge, and so got safely out to sea. At
the two next villages, Tobo and Ossong, we also took in fresh men, who
came swimming through the surf; and at the latter place the Rajah came
on board and accompanied me to Kissalaut, where he has a house which
he lent me during my stay. Here again was a heavy surf, and it was with
great difficulty we got the boats safely hauled up. At Amboyna I had
been promised at this season a calm sea and the wind off shore, but in
this case, as in every other, I had been unable to obtain any reliable
information as to the winds and seasons of places distant two or three
days' journey. It appears, however, that owing to the general direction
of the island of Ceram (E.S.E. and W.N.W.), there is a heavy surf and
scarcely any shelter on the south coast during the west monsoon, when
alone a journey to the eastward can be safely made; while during the
east monsoon, when I proposed to return along the north coast to Wahai,
I should probably find that equally exposed and dangerous. But although
the general direction of the west monsoon in the Banda sea causes a
heavy swell, with bad surf on the coast, yet we had little advantage of
the wind; for, owing I suppose to the numerous bays and headlands, we
had contrary south-east or even due east winds all the way, and had to
make almost the whole distance from Amboyna by force of rowing. We had
therefore all the disadvantages, and none of the advantages, of this
west monsoon, which I was told would insure me a quick and pleasant
journey.

I was delayed at Kissa-laut just four weeks, although after the first
three days I saw that it would be quite useless for me to stay, and
begged the Rajah to give me a prau and men to carry me on to Goram. But
instead of getting one close at hand, he insisted on sending several
miles off; and when after many delays it at length arrived, it was
altogether unsuitable and too small to carry my baggage. Another was
then ordered to be brought immediately, and was promised in three days,
but doable that time elapsed and none appeared, and we were obliged at
length to get one at the adjoining village, where it might have been
so much more easily obtained at first. Then came caulking and covering
over, and quarrels between the owner and the Rajah's men, which
occupied more than another ten days, during all which time I was getting
absolutely nothing, finding this part of Ceram a perfect desert in
zoology, although a most beautiful country, and with a very luxuriant
vegetation. It was a complete puzzle, which to this day I have not been
able to understand; the only thing I obtained worth notice during my
month's stay here being a few good land shells.

At length, on April 4th, we succeeded in getting away in our little
boat of about four tons burthen, in which my numerous boxes were with
difficulty packed so as to leave sleeping and cooling room. The craft
could not boast an ounce of iron or a foot of rope in any part of its
construction, nor a morsel of pitch or paint in its decoration. The
planks were fastened together in the usual ingenious way with pegs
and rattans. The mast was a bamboo triangle, requiring no shrouds,
and carrying a long mat sail; two rudders were hung on the quarters by
rattans, the anchor was of wood, and a long and thick rattan; served as
a cable. Our crew consisted of four men, whose pole accommodation was
about three feet by four in the bows and stern, with the sloping thatch
roof to stretch themselves upon for a change. We had nearly a hundred
miles to go, fully exposed to the swell of the Banda sea, which is
sometimes very considerable; but we luckily had it calm and smooth, so
that we made the voyage in comparative comfort.

On the second day we passed the eastern extremity of Ceram, formed of
a group of hummocky limestone hills; and, sailing by the islands of
Kwammer and Keffing, both thickly inhabited, came in sight of the little
town of Kilwaru, which appears to rise out of the sea like a rustic
Venice. This place has really a most extraordinary appearance, as not a
particle of land or vegetation can be seen, but a long way out at sea a
large village seems to float upon the water. There is of course a small
island of several acres in extent; but the houses are built so closely
all round it upon piles in the water, that it is completely hidden. It
is a place of great traffic, being the emporium for much of the produce
of these Eastern seas, and is the residence of many Bugis and Ceramese
traders, and appears to have been chosen on account of its being close
to the only deep channel between the extensive shoals of Ceram-laut and
those bordering the east end of Ceram. We now had contrary east winds,
and were obliged to pole over the shallow coral reefs of Ceram-laut
for nearly thirty miles. The only danger of our voyage was just at its
termination, for as we were rowing towards Manowolko, the largest of
the Goram group, we were carried out so rapidly by a strong westerly
current, that I was almost certain at one time we should pass clear
of the island; in which case our situation would have been both
disagreeable and dangerous, as, with the east wind which had just set
in, we might have been unable to return for many days, and we had not
a day's water on board. At the critical moment I served out some strong
spirits to my men, which put fresh vigour into their arms, and carried
us out of the influence of the current before it was too late.

MANOWOLKO, GORAM GROUP.

On arriving at Manowolko, we found the Rajah was at the opposite island
of Goram; but he was immediately sent for, and in the meantime a large
shed was given for our accommodation. At night the Rajah came, and the
next day I had a visit from him, and found, as I expected, that I had
already made his acquaintance three years before at Aru. He was very
friendly, and we had a long talk; but when I begged for a boat and
men to take me on to Ke, he made a host of difficulties. There were no
praus, as all had gone to Ke or Aim; and even if one were found, there
were no men, as it was the season when all were away trading. But he
promised to see about it, and I was obliged to wait. For the next two or
three days there was more talking and more difficulties were raised, and
I had time to make an examination of the island and the people.

Manowolko is about fifteen miles long, and is a mere; upraised
coral-reef. Two or three hundred yards inland rise cliffs of coral rock,
in many parts perpendicular, and one or two hundred feet high; and this,
I was informed, is characteristic of the whole island, in which there is
no other kind of rock, and no stream of water. A few cracks and chasms
furnish paths to the top of these cliffs, where there is an open
undulating country, in which the chief vegetable grounds of the
inhabitants are situated.

The people here--at least the chief men--were of a much purer Malay race
than the Mahometans of the mainland of Ceram, which is perhaps due to
there having been no indigenes on these small islands when the
first settlers arrived. In Ceram, the Alfuros of Papuan race are the
predominant type, the Malay physiognomy being seldom well marked;
whereas here the reverse is the case, and a slight infusion of Papuan
on a mixture of Malay and Bugis has produced a very good-looking set of
people. The lower class of the population consist almost entirely of
the indigenes of the adjacent island. They are a fine race, with
strongly-marked Papuan features, frizzly hair, and brown complexions.
The Goram language is spoken also at the east end of Ceram, and in
the adjacent islands. It has a general resemblance to the languages of
Ceram, but possesses a peculiar element which I have not met with in
other languages of the Archipelago.

After great delay, considering the importance of every day at this
time of year, a miserable boat and five men were found, and with
some difficulty I stowed away in it such baggage as it was absolutely
necessary for me to take, leaving scarcely sitting or sleeping room.
The sailing qualities of the boat were highly vaunted, and I was assured
that at this season a small one was much more likely to succeed in
making the journey. We first coasted along the island, reaching its
eastern extremity the following morning (April 11th), and found a
strong W. S.W. wind blowing, which just allowed us to lay across to the
Matabello Islands, a distance little short of twenty miles. I did not
much like the look of the heavy sky and rather rough sea, and my men
were very unwilling to make the attempt; but as we could scarcely hope
for a better chance, I insisted upon trying. The pitching and jerking of
our little boat, soon reduced me to a state of miserable helplessness,
and I lay down, resigned to whatever might happen. After three or four
hours, I was told we were nearly over; but when I got up, two hours
later, just as the sun was setting, I found we were still a good
distance from the point, owing to a strong current which had been for
some time against us. Night closed in, and the wind drew more ahead,
so we had to take in sail. Then came a calm, and we rowed and sailed
as occasion offered; and it was four in the morning when we reached the
village of Kisslwoi, not having made more than three miles in the last
twelve hours.

MATABELLO ISLANDS.

At daylight I found we were; in a beautiful little harbour, formed by a
coral reef about two hundred yards from shore, and perfectly secure in
every wind. Having eaten nothing since the previous morning, we cooked
our breakfast comfortably on shore, and left about noon, coasting along
the two islands of this group, which lie in the same line, and are
separated by a narrow channel. Both seem entirely formed of raised
coral rock; but them has been a subsequent subsidence, as shaven by the
barrier reef which extends all along them at varying distances from the
shore, This reef is sometimes only marked by a. line of breakers when
there is a little swell on the sea; in other places there is a ridge
of dead coral above the water, which is here and there high enough to
support a few low bushes. This was the first example I had met with of a
true barrier reef due to subsidence, as has been so clearly shown by Mr.
Darwin. In a sheltered archipelago they will seldom be distinguishable,
from the absence of those huge rolling waves and breakers which in
the wide ocean throw up a barrier of broken coral far above the usual
high-water mark, while here they rarely rise to the surface.

On reaching the end of the southern island, called Uta, we were kept
waiting two days for a wind that would enable us to pass over to the
next island, Teor, and I began to despair of ever reaching Ke, and
determined on returning. We left with a south wind, which suddenly
changed to north-east, and induced me to turn again southward in the
hopes that this was the commencement of a few days' favourable weather.
We sailed on very well in the direction of Teor for about an hour,
after which the wind shifted to WSW., and we were driven much out of our
course, and at nightfall found ourselves in the open sea, and full
ten miles to leeward of our destination. My men were now all very much
frightened, for if we went on we might be a. week at sea in our little
open boat, laden almost to the water's edge; or we might drift on to
the coast of New Guinea, in which case we should most likely all be
murdered. I could not deny these probabilities, and although I showed
them that we could not get back to our starting-point with the wind
as it was, they insisted upon returning. We accordingly put about, and
found that we could lay no nearer to Uta than to Teor; however, by great
good luck, about ten o'clock we hit upon a little coral island, and lay
under its lee till morning, when a favourable change of wind brought us
back to Uta, and by evening (April 18th) we reached our first anchorage
in Matabello, where I resolved to stay a few days, and then return to
Goram. It way with much regret that I gave up my trip to Ke and the
intervening islands, which I had looked forward to as likely to make up
for my disappointment in Ceram, since my short visit on my voyage to Aru
had produced me so many rare and beautiful insects.

The natives of Matabello are almost entirely occupied in making cocoanut
oil, which they sell to the Bugis and Goram traders, who carry it to
Banda and Amboyna. The rugged coral rock seems very favourable to the
growth of the cocoa-nut palm, which abounds over the whole island to the
very highest points, and produces fruit all the year round. Along with
it are great numbers of the areca or betel-nut palm, the nuts of which
are sliced, dried, and ground into a paste, which is much used by the
betel-chewing Malays and Papuans. All the little children here even
such as can just run alone, carried between their lips a mass of the
nasty-looking red paste, which is even more disgusting than to see them
at the same age smoking cigars, which is very common even before they
are weaned. Cocoa-nuts, sweet potatoes, an occasional sago cake, and the
refuse nut after the oil has been extracted by boiling, form the chief
sustenance of these people; and the effect of this poor and unwholesome
diet is seen in the frequency of eruptions and scurfy skin diseases, and
the numerous sores that disfigure the faces of the children.

The villages are situated on high and rugged coral peaks, only
accessible by steep narrow paths, with ladders and bridges over yawning
chasms. They are filthy with rotten husks and oil refuse, and the huts
are dark, greasy, and dirty in the extreme. The people are wretched
ugly dirty savages, clothed in unchanged rags, and living in the most
miserable manner, and as every drop of fresh water has to be brought
up from the beach, washing is never thought of; yet they are actually
wealthy, and have the means of purchasing all the necessaries and
luxuries of life. Fowls are abundant, and eggs were given me whenever
I visited the villages, but these are never eaten, being looked upon
as pets or as merchandise. Almost all of the women wear massive gold
earrings, and in every village there are dozens of small bronze cannon
lying about on the ground, although they have cost on the average
perhaps £10 a piece. The chief men of each village came to visit me,
clothed in robes of silk and flowered satin, though their houses and
their daily fare are no better than those of the ether inhabitants. What
a contrast between these people and such savages as the best tribes of
bill. Dyaks in Borneo, or the Indians of the Uaupes in South America,
living on the banks of clear streams, clean in their persons and their
houses, with abundance of wholesome food, and exhibiting its effect in
healthy shins and beauty of form and feature! There is in fact almost
as much difference: between the various races of savage as of civilized
peoples, and we may safely affirm that the better specimens of the
former are much superior to the lower examples of the latter class.

One of the few luxuries of Matabello is the palm wine; which is the
fermented sap from the flower stains of the cocoa-net. It is really a
very mice drink, more like cyder than beer, though quite as intoxicating
as the latter. Young cocoa-nuts are also very abundant, so that anywhere
in the island it is only necessary to go a few yards to find a delicious
beverage by climbing up a tree for it. It is the water of the young
fruit that is drunk, before the pulp has hardened; it is then more
abundant, clear, and refreshing, and the thin coating of gelatinous pulp
is thought a treat luxury. The water of full-brown cocoa-nuts is always
thrown away as undrinkable, although it is delicious in comparison with
that of the old dry nuts which alone we obtain in this country. The
cocoa-nut pulp I did not like at first; but fruits are so scarce, except
at particular seasons, that one soon learns to appreciate anything of a
fruity nature.

Many persons in Europe are under the impression that fruits of delicious
flavour abound in the tropical forests, and they will no doubt be
surprised to learn that the truly wild fruits of this brand and
luxuriant archipelago, the vegetation of which will vie with that of any
part of the world, are in almost every island inferior in abundance and
duality to those of Britain. Wild strawberries and raspberries are found
in some places, but they are such poor tasteless things as to be hardly
worth eating, and there is nothing to compare with our blackberries and
whortleberries. The kanary-nut may be considered equal to a hazel-nut,
but I have met with nothing else superior to our crabs, oar haws,
beech-nuts, wild plums, and acorns; fruits which would be highly
esteemed by the natives of these islands, and would form an important
part of their sustenance. All the fine tropical fruits are as much
cultivated productions as our apples, peaches, and plums, and their wild
prototypes, when found, are generally either tasteless or uneatable.

The people of Matabello, like those of most of the Mahometan villages of
East Ceram and Goram, amused me much by their strange ideas concerning
the Russian war. They believe that the Russians were not only most
thoroughly beaten by the Turks, but were absolutely conquered, and all
converted to Islamism! And they can hardly be convinced that such is
not the case, and that had it not been for the assistance of France and
England, the poor Sultan world have fared ill. Another of their motions
is, that the Turks are the largest and strongest people in the world--in
fact a race of giants; that they eat enormous quantities of meat, and
are a most ferocious and irresistible nation. Whence such strangely
incorrect opinions could have arisen it is difficult to understand,
unless they are derived from Arab priests, or hadjis returned from
Mecca, who may have heard of the ancient prowess of the Turkish armies
when they made all Europe tremble, and suppose that their character and
warlike capacity must be the same at the present time.

GORAM

A steady south-east wind having set in, we returned to Manowolko on
the 25th of April, and the day after crossed over to Ondor, the chief
village of Goram.

Around this island extends, with few interruptions, an encircling coral
reef about a quarter of a mile from the shore, visible as a stripe of
pale green water, but only at very lowest ebb-tides showing any rock
above the surface. There are several deep entrances through this reef,
and inside it there is hood anchorage in all weathers. The land rises
gradually to a moderate height, and numerous small streams descend on
all sides. The mere existence of these streams would prove that the
island was not entirely coralline, as in that case all the water would
sink through the porous rock as it does at Manowolko and Matabello; but
we have more positive proof in the pebbles and stones of their beds,
which exhibit a variety of stratified crystalline rocks. About a hundred
yards from the beach rises a wall of coral rock, ten or twenty feet
high, above which is an undulating surface of rugged coral, which slopes
downward towards the interior, and then after a slight ascent is bounded
by a second wall of coral. Similar walls occur higher up, and coral is
found on the highest part of the island.

This peculiar structure teaches us that before the coral was formed land
existed in this spot; that this land sunk gradually beneath the waters,
but with intervals of rest, during which encircling reef's were formed
around it at different elevations; that it then rose to above its
present elevation, and is now again sinking. We infer this, because
encircling reefs are a proof of subsidence; and if the island were again
elevated about a hundred feet, what is now the reef and the shallow sea
within it would form a wall of coral rock, and an undulating coralline
plain, exactly similar to those that still exist at various altitudes up
to the summit of the island. We learn also that these changes have taken
place at a comparatively recent epoch, for the surface of the coral
has scarcely suffered from the action of the weather, and hundreds of
sea-shells, exactly resembling those still found upon the beach, and
many of them retaining their gloss and even their colour, are scattered
over the surface of the island to near its summit.

Whether the Goram group formed originally part of New Guinea or of Ceram
it is scarcely possible to determine, and its productions will throw
little light upon the question, if, as I suppose, the islands have been
entirely submerged within the epoch of existing species of animals,
as in that case it must owe its present fauna and flora to recent
immigration from surrounding lands; and with this view its poverty in
species very well agrees. It possesses much in common with East Ceram,
but at the same time has a good deal of resemblance to the Ke Islands
and Banda. The fine pigeon, Carpophaga concinna, inhabits Ke, Banda,
Il-Iatabello, and Goram, and is replaced by a distinct species, C.
neglecta, in Ceram. The insects of these four islands have also a common
facies--facts which seem to indicate that some more extensive land has
recently disappeared from the area they now occupy, and has supplied
them with a few of its peculiar productions.

The Goram people (among whom I stayed a month) are a race of traders.
Every year they visit the Tenimber, Ke, and Aru Islands, the whole
north-west coast of New Guinea from Oetanata to Salwatty, and the island
of Waigiou and Mysol. They also extend their voyages to Tidore and
Ternate, as well as to Banda and Amboyna, Their praus are all made by
that wonderful race of boatbuilders, the Ke islanders, who annually
turn out some hundreds of boats, large and small, which can hardly be
surpassed for beauty of form and goodness of workmanship, They trade
chiefly in tripang, the medicinal mussoi bark, wild nutmegs, and
tortoiseshell, which they sell to the Bugis traders at Ceram-laut or
Aru, few of them caring to take their products to any other market. In
other respects they are a lazy race, living very poorly, and much given
to opium smoking. The only native manufactures are sail-matting, coarse
cotton cloth, and pandanus-leaf boxes, prettily stained and ornamented
with shell-work.

In the island of Goram, only eight or ten miles long, there are about a
dozen Rajahs, scarcely better off than the rest of the inhabitants, and
exercising a mere nominal sway, except when any order is received from
the Dutch Government, when, being backed by a higher power, they show
a little more strict authority. My friend the Rajah of Ammer (commonly
called Rajah of Goram) told me that a few years ago, before the Dutch
had interfered in the affairs of the island, the trade was not carried
on so peaceably as at present, rival praus often fighting when on the
way to the same locality, or trafficking in the same village. Now such a
thing is never thought of-one of the good effects of the superintendence
of a civilized government. Disputes between villages are still, however,
sometimes settled by fighting, and I one day saw about fifty men,
carrying long guns and heavy cartridge-belts, march through the village.
They had come from the other side of the island on some question
of trespass or boundary, and were prepared for war if peaceable
negotiations should fail.

While at Manowolko I had purchased for 100 florins (£9.) a small prau,
which was brought over the next day, as I was informed it was more
easy to have the necessary alterations made in Goram, where several Ke
workmen were settled.

As soon as we began getting my prau ready I was obliged to give up
collecting, as I found that unless I was constantly on the spot myself
very little work would be clone. As I proposed making some long voyages
in this boat, I determined to fit it up conveniently, and was obliged to
do all the inside work myself, assisted by my two Amboynese boys. I
had plenty of visitors, surprised to see a white man at work, and much
astonished at the novel arrangements I was making in one of their native
vessels. Luckily I had a few tools of my own, including a small saw and
some chisels, and these were now severely tried, cutting and fitting
heavy iron-wood planks for the flooring and the posts that support the
triangular mast. Being of the best London make, they stood the work
well, and without them it would have been impossible for me to have
finished my boat with half the neatness, or in double the time. I had
a Ke workman to put in new ribs, for which I bought nails of a Bugis
trader, at 8d. a pound. My gimlets were, however, too small; and having
no augers we were obliged to bore all the holes with hot irons, a most
tedious and unsatisfactory operation.

Five men had engaged to work at the prau till finished, and then go with
me to Mysol, Waigiou, and Ternate. Their ideas of work were, however,
very different from mine, and I had immense difficulty with them; seldom
more than two or three coming together, and a hundred excuses being
given for working only half a day when they did come. Yet they were
constantly begging advances of money, saying they had nothing to eat.
When I gave it them they were sure to stay away the next day, and when I
refused any further advances some of them declined working any more. As
the boat approached completion my difficulties with the men increased.
The uncle of one had commenced a war, or sort of faction fight, and
wanted his assistance; another's wife was ill, and would not let him
come; a third had fever and ague, and pains in his head and back; and
a fourth had an inexorable creditor who would not let him go out of his
sight. They had all received a month's wages in advance; and though the
amount was not large, it was necessary to make them pay it back, or I
should get any men at all. I therefore sent the village constable
after two, and kept them in custody a day, when they returned about
three-fourths of what they owed me. The sick man also paid, and the
steersman found a substitute who was willing to take his debt, and
receive only the balance of his wages.

About this time we had a striking proof of the dangers of New Guinea
trading. Six men arrived at the village in a small boat almost starved,
having escaped out of two praus, the remainder of whose crews (fourteen
in number) had been murdered by the natives of New Guinea. The praus had
left this village a few months before, and among the murdered men were
the Rajah's son, and the relation or slaves of many of the inhabitants.
The cry of lamentation that arose when the news arrived was most
distressing. A score of women, who had lost husbands, brothers, sons,
or more distant relatives, set up at once the most dismal shrieks and
groans and wailings, which continued at intervals till late at night;
and as the chief houses in the village were crowded together round that
which I occupied, our situation was anything but agreeable.

It seems that the village where the attack took place (nearly opposite
the small island of Lakahia) is known to be dangerous, and the vessels
had only gone there a few days before to buy some tripang. The crew were
living on shore, the praus being in a small river close by, and they
were attacked and murdered in the day-time while bargaining with the
Papuans. The six men who survived were on board the praus, and escaped
by at once setting into the small boat and rowing out to sea.

This south-west part of New Guinea, known to the native traders as
"Papua Kowiyee" and "Papua Onen," is inhabited by the most treacherous
and bloodthirsty tribes. It is in these districts that the commanders
and portions of the crews of many of the early discovery ships were
murdered, and scarcely a year now passes but some lives are lost. The
Goram and Ceram traders are themselves generally inoffensive; they are
well acquainted with the character of these natives, and are not likely
to provoke an attack by any insults or open attempt at robbery or
imposition. They are accustomed to visit the same places every year, and
the natives can have no fear of them, as may be alleged in excuse for
their attacks on Europeans. In other extensive districts inhabited by
the same Papuan races, such as Mysol, Salwatty, Waigiou, and some
parts of the adjacent coast, the people have taken the first step in
civilization, owing probably to the settlement of traders of mixed breed
among them, and for many years no such attacks have taken place. On the
south-west coast, and in the large island of Jobie, however, the natives
are in a very barbarous condition, and tale every opportunity of robbery
and murder,--a habit which is confirmed by the impunity they experience,
owing to the vast extent of wild mountain and forest country forbidding
all pursuit or attempt at punishment. In the very same village, four
years before, more than fifty Goram men were murdered; and as
these savages obtain an immense booty in the praus and all their
appurtenances, it is to be feared that such attacks will continue to be
made at intervals as long as traders visit the same spots and attempt no
retaliation. Punishment could only be inflicted on these people by
very arbitrary measures, such as by obtaining possession of some of the
chiefs by stratagem, and rendering them responsible for the capture of
the murderers at the peril of their own heads. But anything of this kind
would be done contrary to the system adopted by the Dutch Government in
its dealings with natives.

GORAM TO WAHAI IN CERAM.

When my boat was at length launched and loaded, I got my men together,
and actually set sail the next day (May 27th), much to the astonishment
of the Goram people, to whom such punctuality was a novelty. I had a
crew of three men and a boy, besides my two Amboyna lads; which was
sufficient for sailing, though rather too few if obliged to row much.
The next day was very wet, with squalls, calms, and contrary winds, and
with some difficulty we reached Kilwaru, the metropolis of the Bugis
traders in the far East. As I wanted to make some purchases, I stayed
here two days, and sent two of my boxes of specimens by a Macassar prau
to be forwarded to Ternate, thus relieving myself of a considerable
incumbrance. I bought knives, basins, and handkerchiefs for barter,
which with the choppers, cloth, and beads I had brought with me, made
a pretty good assortment. I also bought two tower muskets to satisfy my
crew, who insisted on the necessity of being armed against attacks
of pirates; and with spices and a few articles of food for the voyage
nearly my last doit was expended.

The little island of Kilwaru is a mere sandbank, just large enough to
contain a small village, and situated between the islands of Ceram-laut,
and Kissa--straits about a third of a mile wide separating it from each
of them. It is surrounded by coral reefs, and offers good anchorage in
both monsoons. Though not more than fifty yards across, and not elevated
more than three or four feet above the highest tides, it has wells of
excellent drinking water--a singular phenomenon, which would seem
to imply deep-seated subterranean channels connecting it with other
islands. These advantages, with its situation in the centre of the
Papuan trading district, lead to its being so much frequented by the
Bugis traders. Here the Goram men bring the produce of their little
voyages, which they exchange for cloth, sago cakes, and opium; and
the inhabitants of all the surrounding islands visit it with the game
object. It is the rendezvous of the praus trading to various parts of
New Guinea, which here assort and dry their cargoes, and refit for the
voyage home. Tripang and mussoi bark are the most bulky articles of
produce brought here, with wild nutmegs, tortoiseshell, pearls, and
birds of Paradise; in smaller quantities. The villagers of the mainland
of Ceram bring their sago, which is thus distributed to the islands
farther east, while rice from Bali and Macassar can also be purchased at
a moderate price. The Goram men come here for their supplies of opium,
both for their own consumption and for barter in Mysol and Waigiou,
where they have introduced it, and where the chiefs and wealthy men are
passionately fond of it. Schooners from Bali come to buy Papuan slaves,
while the sea-wandering Bugis arrive from distant Singapore in their
lumbering praus, bringing thence the produce of the Chinamen's
workshops and Kling's bazaar, as well as of the looms of Lancashire and
Massachusetts.

One of the Bugis traders who had arrived a few days before from Mysol,
brought me news of my assistant Charles Allen, with whom he was well
acquainted, and who, he assured me; was making large collections of
birds and insects, although he had not obtained any birds of Paradise;
Silinta, where he was staying, not being a good place for them. This
was on the whole satisfactory, and I was anxious to reach him as soon as
possible.

Leaving Kilwaru early in the morning of June 1st, with a strong east
wind we doubled the point of Ceram about noon, the heavy sea causing my
prau to roll abort a good deal, to the damage of our crockery. As bad
weather seemed coming on, we got inside the reefs and anchored opposite
the village of Warns-warns to wait for a change.

The night was very squally, and though in a good harbour we rolled and
jerked uneasily; but in the morning I had greater cause for uneasiness
in the discovery that our entire Goram crew had decamped, taking with
them all they possessed and a little more, and leaving us without any
small boat in which to land. I immediately told my Amboyna men to load
and fire the muskets as a signal of distress, which was soon answered
by the village chief sending off a boat, which took me on shore. I
requested that messengers should be immediately sent to the neighbouring
villages in quest of the fugitives, which was promptly done. My prau was
brought into a small creek, where it could securely rest in the mud at
low water, and part of a house was given me in which T could stay for
a while. I now found my progress again suddenly checked, just when I
thought I had overcome my chief difficulties. As I had treated my men
with the greatest kindness, and had given them almost everything they
had asked for, I can impute their running away only to their being
totally unaccustomed to the restraint of a European master, and to some
undefined dread of my ultimate intentions regarding them. The oldest man
was an opium smoker, and a reputed thief, but I had been obliged to take
him at the last moment as a substitute for another. I feel sure it was
he who induced the others to run away, and as they knew the country
well, and had several hours' start of us, there was little chance of
catching them.

We were here in the great sago district of East Ceram which supplies
most of the surrounding islands with their daily bread, and during our
week's delay I had an opportunity of seeing the whole process of making
it, and obtaining some interesting statistics. The sago tree is a palm,
thicker and larger than the cocoa-nut tree, although rarely so tall, and
having immense pinnate spiny leaves, which completely cover the trunk
till it is many years old. It has a creeping root-stem like the Nipa
palm, and when about ten or fifteen years of age sends up an immense
terminal spike of flowers, after which the tree dies. It grows in
swamps, or in swampy hollows on the rocky slopes of hills, where it
seems to thrive equally well as when exposed to the influx of salt or
brackish water. The midribs of the immense leaves form one of the most
useful articles in these lands, supplying the place of bamboo, to which
for many purposes they are superior. They are twelve or fifteen feet
long, and, when very fine, as thick in the lower part as a man's leg.
They are very light, consisting entirely of a firm pith covered with
a hard thin rind or bark. Entire houses are built of these; they form
admirable roofing-poles for thatch; split and well-supported, they do
for flooring; and when chosen of equal size, and pegged together side
by side to fill up the panels of framed wooden horses, they have a very
neat appearance, and make better walls and partitions than boards, as
they do not shrink, require no paint or varnish, and are not a quarter
the expense. When carefully split and shaved smooth they are formed into
light boards with pegs of the bark itself, and are the foundation of the
leaf-covered boxes of Goram. All the insect-boxes I used in the Moluccas
were thus made at Amboyna, and when covered with stout paper inside and
out, are strong, light, and secure the insect-pins remarkably well. The
leaflet of the sago folded and tied side by side on the smaller midribs
form the "atap" or thatch in universal use, while the product of the
trunk is the staple food of some= hundred thousands of men.

When sago is to be made, a full-grown tree is selected just before it
is going to flower. It is cut down close to the ground, the leaves and
leafstalks cleared away, and a broad strip of the bark taken off the
upper side of the trunk. This exposes the pithy matter, which is of
a rusty colour near the bottom of the tree, but higher up pure white,
about as hard as a dry apple, but with woody fibre running through it
about a quarter of an inch apart. This pith is cut or broken down into a
coarse powder by means of a tool constructed for the purpose--a club of
hard and heavy wood, having a piece of sharp quartz rock firmly imbedded
into its blunt end, and projecting about half an inch. By successive
blows of this, narrow strips of the pith are cut away, and fall down
into the cylinder formed by the bark. Proceeding steadily on, the whole
trunk is cleared out, leaving a skin not more than half an inch in
thickness. This material is carried away (in baskets made of
the sheathing bases of the leaves) to the nearest water, where a
washing-machine is put up, which is composed almost entirely of the saga
tree itself. The large sheathing bases of the leaves form the troughs,
and the fibrous covering from the leaf-stalks of the young cocoa-nut
the strainer. Water is poured on the mass of pith, which is kneaded and
pressed against the strainer till the starch is all dissolved and has
passed through, when the fibrous refuse is thrown away, and a fresh
basketful put in its place. The water charged with sago starch passes
on to a trough, with a depression in the centre, where the sediment is
deposited, the surplus water trickling off by a shallow outlet. When the
trough is nearly full, the mass of starch, which has a slight reddish
tinge, is made into cylinders of about thirty pounds' weight, and neatly
covered with sago leaves, and in this state is sold as raw sago.

Boiled with water this forms a thick glutinous mass, with a rather
astringent taste, and is eaten with salt, limes, and chilies. Sago-bread
is made in large quantities, by baking it into cakes in a small
clay oven containing six or eight slits side by side, each about
three-quarters of an inch wide, and six or eight inches square. The raw
sago is broken up, dried in the sun, powdered, and finely sifted. The
oven is heated over a clear fire of embers, and is lightly filled with
the sago-powder. The openings are then covered with a flat piece of sago
bark, and in about five minutes the cakes are turned out sufficiently
baked. The hot cakes are very nice with butter, and when made with the
addition of a little sugar and grated cocoa-nut are quite a delicacy.
They are soft, and something like corn-flour cakes, but leave a slight
characteristic flavour which is lost in the refined sago we use in this
country. When not wanted for immediate use, they are dried for several
days in the sun, and tied up in bundles of twenty. They will then keep
for years; they are very hard, and very rough and dry, but the people
are used to them from infancy, and little children may be seen gnawing
at them as contentedly as ours with their bread-and-butter. If dipped in
water and then toasted, they become almost as good as when fresh baked;
and thus treated they were my daily substitute for bread with my coffee.
Soaked and boiled they make a very good pudding or vegetable, and served
well to economize our rice, which is sometimes difficult to get so far
east.

It is truly an extraordinary sight to witness a whole tree-trunk,
perhaps twenty feet long and four or five in circumference, converted
into food with so little labour and preparation. A good-sized tree will
produce thirty tomans or bundles of thirty pounds each, and each toman
will make sixty cakes of three to the pound. Two of these cakes are as
much as a man can eat at one meal, and five are considered a full day's
allowance; so that, reckoning a tree to produce 1,800 cakes, weighing
600 pounds, it will supply a man with food for a whole year. The labour
to produce this is very moderate. Two men will finish a tree in five
days, and two women will bake the whole into cakes in five days more;
but the raw sago will keep very well, and can be baked as wanted, so
that we may estimate that in ten days a man may produce food for the
whole year. This is on the supposition that he possesses sago trees of
his own, for they are now all private property. If he does not, he has
to pay about seven and sixpence for one; and as labour here is five
pence a day, the total cost of a year's food for one man is about
twelve shillings. The effect of this cheapness of food is decidedly
prejudicial, for the inhabitants of the sago countries are never so
well off as those where rice is cultivated. Many of the people here have
neither vegetables nor fruit, but live almost entirely on sago and a
little fish. Having few occupations at home, they wander about on petty
trading or fishing expeditions to the neighbouring islands; and as far
as the comforts of life are concerned, are much inferior to the wild
hill-Dyaks of Borneo, or to many of the more barbarous tribes of the
Archipelago.

The country round Warus-warus is low and swampy, and owing to the
absence of cultivation there were scarcely any paths leading into the
forest. I was therefore unable to collect much during my enforced stay,
and found no rare birds or insects to improve my opinion of Ceram as
a collecting ground. Finding it quite impossible to get men here to
accompany me on the whole voyage, I was obliged to be content with a
crew to take me as far as Wahai, on the middle of the north coast of
Ceram, and the chief Dutch station in the island. The journey took
us five days, owing to calms and light winds, and no incident of any
interest occurred on it, nor did I obtain at our stopping places a
single addition to my collections worth naming. At Wahai, which I
reached on the 15th of June, I was hospitably received by the Commandant
and my old friend Herr Rosenberg, who was now on an official visit here.
He lent me some money to pay my men, and I was lucky enough to obtain
three others willing to make the voyage with me to Ternate, and one more
who was to return from Mysol. One of my Amboyna lads, however, left me,
so that I was still rather short of hands.

I found here a letter from Charles Allen, who was at Silinta in Mysol,
anxiously expecting me, as he was out of rice and other necessaries, and
was short of insect-pins. He was also ill, and if I did not soon come
would return to Wahai.

As my voyage from this place to Waigiou was among islands inhabited by
the Papuan race, and was an eventful and disastrous one, I will narrate
its chief incidents in a separate chapter in that division of my work
devoted to the Papuan Islands. I now have to pass over a year spent in
Waigiou and Timor, in order to describe my visit to the island of Bouru,
which concluded my explorations of the Moluccas.



CHAPTER XXVI. BOURU.

MAY AND JUNE 1861.

I HAD long wished to visit the large island of Bouru, which lies due
west of Ceram, and of which scarcely anything appeared to be known
to naturalists, except that it contained a babirusa very like that of
Celebes. I therefore made arrangements for staying there two months
after leaving Timor Delli in 1861. This I could conveniently do by means
of the Dutch mail-steamers, which make a monthly round of the Moluccas.

We arrived at the harbour of Cajeli on the 4th of May; a gun was fired,
the Commandant of the fort came alongside in a native boat to receive
the post-packet, and took me and my baggage on shore, the steamer going
off again without coming to an anchor. We went to the horse of the
Opzeiner, or overseer, a native of Amboyna--Bouru being too poor a place
to deserve even an Assistant Resident; yet the appearance of the village
was very far superior to that of Delli, which possesses "His Excellency
the Governor," and the little fort, in perfect order, surrounded by neat
brass-plots and straight walks, although manned by only a dozen Javanese
soldiers with an Adjutant for commander, was a very Sebastopol in
comparison with the miserable mud enclosure at Delli, with its numerous
staff of Lieutenants, Captain, and Major. Yet this, as well as most
of the forts in the Moluccas, was originally built by the Portuguese
themselves. Oh! Lusitania, how art thou fallen!

While the Opzeiner was reading his letters, I took a walk round
the village with a guide in search of a horse. The whole place was
dreadfully damp and muddy, being built in a swamp with not a spot of
ground raised a foot above it, and surrounded by swamps on every side.
The houses were mostly well built, of wooden framework filled in with
gaba-gaba (leaf-stems of the sago-palm), but as they had no whitewash,
and the floors were of bare black earth like the roads, and generally on
the same level, they were extremely damp and gloomy. At length I found
one with the floor raised about a foot, and succeeded in making a
bargain with the owner to turn out immediately, so that by night I had
installed myself comfortably. The chairs and tables were left for me;
and as the whole of the remaining furniture in the house consisted of a
little crockery and a few clothes-boxes, it was not much trouble for the
owners to move into the house of some relatives, and thus obtain a
few silver rupees very easily. Every foot of ground between the homes
throughout the village is crammed with fruit trees, so that the sun and
air have no chance of penetrating. This must be very cool and pleasant
in the dry season, but makes it damp and unhealthy at other times of the
year. Unfortunately I had come two months too soon, for the rains were
not yet over, and mud and water were the prominent features of the
country.

About a mile behind and to the east of the village the hills commence,
but they are very barren, being covered with scanty coarse grass and
scattered trees of the Melaleuca cajuputi, from the leaves of which the
celebrated cajeput oil is made. Such districts are absolutely destitute
of interest for the zoologist. A few miles further on rose higher
mountains, apparently well covered with forest, but they were entirely
uninhabited and trackless, and practically inaccessible to a traveller
with limited time and means. It became evident, therefore, that I must
leave Cajeli for some better collecting ground, and finding a man who
was going a few miles eastward to a village on the coast where he said
there were hills and forest, I sent my boy Ali with him to explore and
report on the capabilities of the district. At the same time I arranged
to go myself on a little excursion up a river which flows into the bay
about five miles north of the town, to a village of the Alfuros, or
indigenes, where I thought I might perhaps find a good collecting
ground.

The Rajah of Cajeli, a good-tempered old man, offered to accompany me,
as the village was under his government; and we started one morning
early, in a long narrow boat with eight rowers. In about two hours
we entered the river, and commenced our inland journey against a very
powerful current. The stream was about a hundred yards wide, and
was generally bordered with high grass, and occasionally bushes and
palm-trees. The country round was flat and more or less swampy, with
scattered trees and shrubs. At every bend we crossed the river to avoid
the strength of the current, and arrived at our landing-place about
four o'clock in a torrent of rain. Here we waited for an hour, crouching
under a leaky mat till the Alfuros arrived who had been sent for from
the village to carry my baggage, when we set off along a path of whose
extreme muddiness I had been warned before starting.

I turned up my trousers as high as possible, grasped a stoat stick to
prevent awkward falls, and then boldly plunged into the first mud-hole,
which was immediately succeeded by another and another. The marl or mud
and water was knee-deep with little intervals of firmer ground between,
making progression exceedingly difficult. The path was bordered with
high rigid grass, brewing in dense clumps separated by water, so that
nothing was to be gained by leaving the beaten track, and we were
obliged to go floundering on, never knowing where our feet would rest,
as the mud was now a few inches, now two feet deep, and the bottom
very uneven, so that the foot slid down to the lowest part, and made
it difficult to keep one's balance. One step would be upon a concealed
stick or log, almost dislocating the ankle, while the next would plunge
into soft mud above the knee. It rained all the way, and the long grass,
six feet high, met over the path; so that we could not see a step of the
way ahead, and received a double drenching. Before we got to the village
it was dark, and we had to cross over a small but deep and swollen
stream by a narrow log of wood, which was more than a foot under water.
There was a slender shaking stick for a handrail, and it was nervous
work feeling in the dark in the rushing water for a safe place on which
to place the advanced foot. After au hour of this most disagreeable
and fatiguing walk we reached the village, followed by the men with
our guns, ammunition, boxes, and bedding all more or less soaked. We
consoled ourselves with some hot tea and cold fowl, and went early to
bed.

The next morning was clear and fine, and I set out soon after sunrise to
explore the neighbourhood. The village had evidently been newly formed,
and consisted of a single straight street of very miserable huts totally
deficient in every comfort, and as bare and cheerless inside as out. It
was situated on a little elevated patch of coarse gravelly soil, covered
with the usual high rigid grass, which came up close to the backs of
the houses. At a short distance in several directions were patches of
forest, but all on low and swampy ground. I made one attempt along the
only path I could find, but soon came upon a deep mud-hole, and found
that I must walk barefoot if at all; so I returned and deferred further
exploration till after breakfast. I then went on into the jungle and
found patches of sago-palms and a low forest vegetation, but the paths
were everywhere full of mud-holes, and intersected by muddy streams
and tracts of swamp, so that walking was not pleasurable, and too much
attention to one's steps was not favourable to insect catching, which
requires above everything freedom of motion. I shot a few birds,
and caught a few butterflies, but all were the same as I had already
obtained about Cajeli.

On my return to the village I was told that the same kind of ground
extended for many miles in every direction, and I at once decided that
Wayapo was not a suitable place to stay at. The next morning early we
waded back again through the mud and long wet grass to our boat, and
by mid-day reached Cajeli, where I waited Ali's return to decide on my
future movements. He came the following day, and gave a very bad account
of Pelah, where he had been. There was a little brush and trees along
the beach, and hills inland covered with high grass and cajuputi
trees--my dread and abhorrence. On inquiring who could give me
trustworthy information, I was referred to the Lieutenant of the
Burghers, who had travelled all round the island, and was a very
intelligent fellow. I asked him to tell me if he knew of any part of
Bouru where there was no "kusu-kusu," as the coarse grass of the country
is called. He assured me that a good deal of the south coast was forest
land, while along the north was almost entirely swamp and grassy hills.
After minute inquiries, I found that the forest country commenced at a
place called Waypoti, only a few miles beyond Pelah, but that, as the
coast beyond that place was exposed to the east monsoon and dangerous
for praus, it was necessary to walk. I immediately went to the Opzeiner,
and he called the Rajah. We had a consultation, and arranged for a boat
to take me the next evening but one, to Pelah, whence I was to proceed
on foot, the Orang-kaya going the day before to call the Alfuros to
carry my baggage.

The journey was made as arranged, and on May 19th we arrived at Waypoti,
having walked about ten miles along the beach, and through stony forest
bordering the sea, with occasional plunges of a mile or two into the
interior. We found no village, but scattered houses and plantations,
with hilly country pretty well covered with forest, and looking rather
promising. A low hut with a very rotten roof, showing the sky through in
several places, was the only one I could obtain. Luckily it did not rain
that night, and the next day we pulled down some of the walls to repair
the roof, which was of immediate importance, especially over our beds
and table.

About half a mile from the house was a fine mountain stream, running
swiftly over a bed of rocks and pebbles, and beyond this was a hill
covered with fine forest. By carefully picking my way I could wade
across this river without getting much above my knees, although I would
sometimes slip off a rock and go into a hole up to my waist, and
about twice a week I went across it in order to explore the forest.
Unfortunately there were no paths here of any extent, and it did
not prove very productive either in insects or birds. To add to my
difficulties I had stupidly left my only pair of strong hoots on board
the steamer, and my others were by this time all dropping to pieces,
so that I was obliged to walk about barefooted, and in constant fear of
hurting my feet, and causing a wound which might lay me up for weeks,
as had happened in Borneo, Are, and Dorey. Although there were numerous
plantations of maize and plantains, there were no new clearings; and as
without these it is almost impossible to find many of the best kinds
of insects, I determined to make one myself, and with much difficulty
engaged two men to clear a patch of forest, from which I hoped to obtain
many fine beetles before I left.

During the whole of my stay, however, insects never became plentiful. My
clearing produced me a few fine, longicorns and Buprestidae, different
from any I had before seen, together with several of the Amboyna
species, but by no means so numerous or, so beautiful as I had found in
that small island. For example, I collected only 210 different kinds
of beetles during my two months' stay at Bourn, while in three weeks
at Amboyna, in 1857, I found more than 300 species: One of the finest
insects found at Bouru was a large Cerambyx, of a deep shining chestnut
colour, and with very long antennae. It varied greatly in size, the
largest specimens being three inches long, while the smallest were only
an inch, the antenna varying from one and a half to five inches.

One day my boy Ali came home with a story of a big snake. He was walking
through some high grass, and stepped on something which he took for a
small fallen tree, but it felt cold and yielding to his feet, and far
to the right and left there was a waving and rustling of the herbage. He
jumped back in affright and prepared to shoot, but could not get a good
vies of the creature, and it passed away, he said, like a tree being
dragged along through the grass. As he lead several times already shot
large snakes, which he declared were all as nothing compared with
this, I am inclined to believe it must really have been a monster. Such
creatures are rather plentiful here, for a man living close by showed
me on his thigh the marks where he had been seized by one close to his
house. It was big enough to take the man's thigh in its mouth, and he
would probably have been killed and devoured by it had not his cries
brought out his neighbours, who destroyed it with their choppers. As
far as I could make out it was about twenty feet long, but Ali's was
probably much larger.

It sometimes amuses me to observe how, a few days after I have taken
possession of it, a native hut seems quite a comfortable home. My house
at Waypoti was a bare shed, with a large bamboo platform at one side. At
one end of this platform, which was elevated about three feet, I fixed
up my mosquito curtain, and partly enclosed it with a large Scotch
plaid, making a comfortable little sleeping apartment. I put up a
rude table on legs buried in the earthen floor, and had my comfortable
rattan-chair for a seat. A line across one corner carried my
daily-washed cotton clothing, and on a bamboo shelf was arranged my
small stock of crockery and hardware: Boxes were ranged against the
thatch walls, and hanging shelves, to preserve my collections from ants
while drying, were suspended both without and within the house. On my
table lay books, penknives, scissors, pliers, and pins, with insect and
bird labels, all of which were unsolved mysteries to the native mind.

Most of the people here had never seen a pin, and the better
informed took a pride in teaching their more ignorant companions the
peculiarities and uses of that strange European production--a needle
with a head, but no eye! Even paper, which we throw away hourly as
rubbish, was to them a curiosity; and I often saw them picking up little
scraps which had been swept out of the house, and carefully putting
them away in their betel-pouch. Then when I took my morning coffee and
evening tea, how many were the strange things displayed to them! Teapot,
teacups, teaspoons, were all more or less curious in their eyes; tea,
sugar, biscuit, and butter, were articles of human consumption seen
by many of them for the first time. One asks if that whitish powder is
"gula passir" (sand-sugar), so called to distinguish it from the coarse
lump palm-sugar or molasses of native manufacture; and the biscuit is
considered a sort of European sago-cake, which the inhabitants of those
remote regions are obliged to use in the absence of the genuine article.
My pursuit, were of course utterly beyond their comprehension. They
continually asked me what white people did with the birds and insects I
tools so much care to preserve. If I only kept what was beautiful, they
might perhaps comprehend it; but to see ants and files and small ugly
insects put away so carefully was a great puzzle to them, and they were
convinced that there must be some medical or magical use for them
which I kept a profound secret. These people were in fact as completely
unacquainted with civilized life as the Indians of the Rocky Mountains,
or the savages of Central Africa--yet a steamship, that highest triumph
of human ingenuity, with its little floating epitome of European
civilization, touches monthly at Cajeli, twenty miles off; while at
Amboyna, only sixty miles distant, a European population and government
have been established for more than three hundred years.

Having seen a good many of the natives of Bouru from different villages,
and from distant parts of the island, I feel convinced that they consist
of two distinct races now partially amalgamated. The larger portion are
Malays of the Celebes type, often exactly similar to the Tomóre
people of East Celebes, whom I found settled in Batchian; while others
altogether resemble the Alfuros of Ceram.

The influx of two races can easily be accounted for. The Sula Islands,
which are closely connected with East Celebes, approach to within forty
miles of the north coast of Bouru, while the island of Manipa offers an
easy point of departure for the people of Ceram. I was confirmed in
this view by finding that the languages of Bouru possessed distinct
resemblances to that of Sula, as well as to those of Ceram.

Soon after we had arrived at Waypoti, Ali had seen a beautiful little
bird of the genus Pitta, which I was very anxious to obtain, as in
almost every island the species are different, and none were yet known
from Bourn. He and my other hunter continued to see it two or three
times a week, and to hear its peculiar note much oftener, but could
never get a specimen, owing to its always frequenting the most dense
thorny thickets, where only hasty glimpses of it could be obtained, and
at so short a distance that it would be difficult to avoid blowing
the bird to pieces. Ali was very much annoyed that he could not get a
specimen of this bird, in going after which he had already severely,
wounded his feet with thorns; and when we had only two days more to
stay, he went of his own accord one evening to sleep at a little but
in the forest some miles off, in order to have a last try for it at
daybreak, when many birds come out to feed, and are very intent on their
morning meal. The next evening he brought me home two specimens, one
with the head blown completely off, and otherwise too much injured to
preserve, the other in very good order, and which I at once saw to be
a new species, very like the Pitta celebensis, but ornamented with a
square patch of bright red on the nape of the neck.

The next day after securing this prize we returned to Cajeli, and
packing up my collections left Bouru by the steamer. During our two
days' stay at Ternate, I took on board what baggage I had left there,
and bade adieu to all my friends. We then crossed over to Menado, on
our way to Macassar and Java, and I finally quitted the Moluccas, among
whose luxuriant and beautiful islands I had wandered for more than three
years.

My collections in Bouru, though not extensive, were of considerable
interest; for out of sixty-six species of birds which I collected there,
no less than seventeen were new, or had not been previously found in any
island of the Moluccas. Among these were two kingfishers, Tanysiptera
acis and Ceyx Cajeli; a beautiful sunbird, Nectarines proserpina; a
handsome little black and white flycatcher, Monarcha loricata, whose
swelling throat was beautifully scaled with metallic blue; and several
of less interest. I also obtained a skull of the babirusa, one specimen
of which was killed by native hunters during my residence at Cajeli.



CHAPTER XXVII. THE NATURAL HISTORY OF THE MOLUCCAS.

THE Moluccas consist of three large islands, Gilolo, Ceram, and Bouru,
the two former being each about two hundred miles long; and a great
number of smaller isles and islets, the most important of which are
Batchian, Morty, Obi, Ke, Timor-Laut, and Amboyna; and among the smaller
ones, Ternate, Tidore, Kaióa, and Banda. They occupy a space of ten
degrees of latitude by eight of longitude, and they are connected by
groups of small islets to New Guinea on the east, the Philippines on the
north, Celebes on the west, and Timor on the south. It will be as well
to bear in mind these main features of extent and geographical position,
while we survey their animal productions and discuss their relations
to the countries which surround them on every side in almost equal
proximity.

We will first consider the Mammalia or warm-blooded quadrupeds,
which present us with some singular anomalies. The land mammals are
exceedingly few in number, only ten being yet known from the entire
group. The bats or aerial mammals, on the other hand, are numerous--not
less than twenty-five species being already known. But even this
exceeding poverty of terrestrial mammals does not at all represent the
real poverty of the Moluccas in this class of animals; for, as we shall
soon see, there is good reason to believe that several of the species
have been introduced by man, either purposely or by accident.

The only quadrumanous animal in the group is the curious baboon-monkey,
Cynopithecus nigrescens, already described as being one of the
characteristic animals of Celebes. This is found only in the island of
Batchian; and it seems so much out of place there as it is difficult
to imagine how it could have reached the island by any natural means
of dispersal, and yet not have passed by the same means over the narrow
strait to Gilolo--that it seems more likely to have originated from
some individuals which had escaped from confinement, these and similar
animals being often kept as pets by the Malays, and carried about in
their praus.

Of all the carnivorous animals of the Archipelago the only one found in
the Moluccas is the Viverra tangalunga, which inhabits both Batchian and
Bouru, and probably come of the other islands. I am inclined to think
that this also may have been introduced accidentally, for it is often
made captive by the Malays, who procure civet from it, and it is an
animal very restless and untameable, and therefore likely to escape.
This view is rendered still more probable by what Antonio de Morga tells
us was the custom in the Philippines in 1602. He says that "the natives
of Mindanao carry about civet-cats in cages, and sell them in the
islands; and they take the civet from them, and let them go again." The
same species is common in the Philippines and in all the large islands
of the Indo-Malay region.

The only Moluccan ruminant is a deer, which was once supposed to be a
distinct species, but is now generally considered to be a slight variety
of the Rusa hippelaphus of Java. Deer are often tamed and petted, and
their flesh is so much esteemed by all Malays, that it is very natural
they should endeavour to introduce them into the remote islands in which
they settled, and whose luxuriant forests seem so well adapted for their
subsistence.

The strange babirusa of Celebes is also found in Bouru; but in no other
Moluccan island, and it is somewhat difficult to imagine how it got
there. It is true that there is some approximation between the birds of
the Sula Islands (where the babirusa is also found) and those of Bouru,
which seems to indicate that these islands have recently been closer
together, or that some intervening land has disappeared. At this time
the babirusa may have entered Bouru, since it probably swims as well as
its allies the pigs. These are spread all over the Archipelago, even
to several of the smaller islands, and in many cases the species are
peculiar. It is evident, therefore, that they have some natural means
of dispersal. There is a popular idea that pigs cannot swim, but Sir
Charles Lyell has shown that this is a mistake. In his "Principles of
Geology" (10th Edit. vol. ii p. 355) he adduces evidence to show that
pigs have swum many miles at sea, and are able to swim with great ease
and swiftness. I have myself seen a wild pig swimming across the arm of
the sea that separates Singapore from the Peninsula of Malacca, and we
thus have explained the curious fact, that of all the large mammals of
the Indian region, pigs alone extend beyond the Moluccas and as far as
New Guinea, although it is somewhat curious that they have not found
their way to Australia.

The little shrew, Sorex myosurus, which is common in Sumatra, Borneo,
and Java, is also found in the larger islands of the Moluccas, to which
it may have been accidentally conveyed in native praus.

This completes the list of the placental mammals which are so
characteristic of the Indian region; and we see that, with the single
exception of the pig, all may very probably have been introduced by
man, since all except the pig are of species identical with those now
abounding in the great Malay islands, or in Celebes.

The four remaining mammals are Marsupials, an order of the class
Mammalia, which is very characteristic of the Australian fauna; and
these are probably true natives of the Moluccas, since they are either
of peculiar species, or if found elsewhere are natives only of New
Guinea or North Australia. The first is the small flying opossum,
Belideus ariel, a beautiful little animal, exactly line a small flying
squirrel in appearance, but belonging to the marsupial order. The other
three are species of the curious genus Cuscus, which is peculiar to
the Austro-Malayan region. These are opossum-like animals, with a long
prehensile tail, of which the terminal half is generally bare. They have
small heads, large eyes, and a dense covering of woolly fur, which is
often pure white with irregular black spots or blotches, or sometimes
ashy brown with or without white spots. They live in trees, feeding
upon the leaves, of which they devour large quantities, they move about
slowly, and are difficult to kill, owing to the thickness of their fur,
and their tenacity of life. A heavy charge of shot will often lodge in
the slain and do them no harm, and even breaking the spine or piercing
the brain will not kill them for some hours. The natives everywhere
eat their flesh, and as their motions are so slow, easily catch them by
climbing; so that it is wonderful they have not been exterminated. It
may be, however, that their dense woolly fur protects them from birds of
prey, and the islands they live in are too thinly inhabited for man to
be able to exterminate them. The figure represents Cuscus ornatus, a new
species discovered by me in Batchian, and which also inhabits Ternate.
It is peculiar to the Moluccas, while the two other species which
inhabit Ceram are found also in New Guinea and Waigiou.

In place of the excessive poverty of mammals which characterises the
Moluccas, we have a very rich display of the feathered tribes. The
number of species of birds at present known from the various islands of
the Molluccan group is 265, but of these only 70 belong to the usually
abundant tribes of the waders and swimmers, indicating that these are
very imperfectly known. As they are also pre-eminently wanderers, and
are thus little fitted for illustrating the geographical distribution of
life in a limited area, we will here leave them out of consideration and
confine our attention only to the 195 land birds.

When we consider that all Europe, with its varied climate and
vegetation, with every mile of its surface explored, and with the
immense extent of temperate Asia and Africa, which serve as storehouses,
from which it is continually recruited, only supports 251 species of
land birds as residents or regular immigrants, we must look upon the
numbers already procured in the small and comparatively unknown islands
of the Moluccas as indicating a fauna of fully average richness in this
department. But when we come to examine the family groups which go to
make up this number, we find the most curious deficiencies in some,
balanced by equally striking redundancy in other. Thus if we compare
the birds of the Moluccas with those of India, as given in Mr. Jerdon's
work, we find that the three groups of the parrots, kingfishers, and
pigeons, form nearly _one-third_ of the whole land-birds in the former,
while they amount to only _one-twentieth_ in the latter country. On
the other hand, such wide-spread groups as the thrushes, warblers, and
finches, which in India form nearly _one-third_ of all the land-birds,
dwindle down in the Moluccas to _one-fourteenth._

The reason of these peculiarities appears to be, that the Moluccan
fauna has been almost entirely derived from that of New Guinea, in which
country the same deficiency and the same luxuriance is to be observed.
Out of the seventy-eight genera in which the Moluccan land-birds may be
classed, no less than seventy are characteristic of Yew Guinea, while
only six belong specially to the Indo-Malay islands. But this close
resemblance to New Guinea genera does not extend to the species, for
no less than 140 out of the 195 land-birds are peculiar to the Moluccan
islands, while 32 are found also in New Guinea, and 15 in the Indo-Malay
islands. These facts teach us, that though the birds of this group have
evidently been derived mainly from New Guinea, yet the immigration has
not been a recent one, since there has been time for the greater portion
of the species to have become changed. We find, also, that many very
characteristic New Guinea forms lave not entered the Moluccas at all,
while others found in Ceram and Gilolo do not extend so far west as
Bouru. Considering, further, the absence of most of the New Guinea
mammals from the Moluccas, we are led to the conclusion that these
islands are not fragments which have been separated from New Guinea, but
form a distinct insular region, which has been upheaved independently at
a rather remote epoch, and during all the mutations it has undergone
has been constantly receiving immigrants from that great and productive
island. The considerable length of time the Moluccas have remained
isolated is further indicated by the occurrence of two peculiar genera
of birds, Semioptera and Lycocorax, which are found nowhere else.

We are able to divide this small archipelago into two well marked
groups--that of Ceram, including also Bouru. Amboyna, Banda, and Ke; and
that of Gilolo, including Morty, Batchian, Obi, Ternate, and other small
islands. These divisions have each a considerable number of peculiar
species, no less than fifty-five being found in the Ceram group only;
and besides this, most of the separate islands have some species
peculiar to themselves. Thus Morty island has a peculiar kingfisher,
honeysucker, and starling; Ternate has a ground-thrush (Pitta) and
a flycatcher; Banda has a pigeon, a shrike, and a Pitta; Ke has two
flycatchers, a Zosterops, a shrike, a king-crow and a cuckoo; and the
remote Timor-Laut, which should probably come into the Moluccan group,
has a cockatoo and lory as its only known birds, and both are of
peculiar species.

The Moluccas are especially rich in the parrot tribe, no less than
twenty-two species, belonging to ten genera, inhabiting them. Among
these is the large red-crested cockatoo, so commonly seen alive in
Europe, two handsome red parrots of the genus Eclectus, and five of the
beautiful crimson lories, which are almost exclusively confined to these
islands and the New Guinea group. The pigeons are hardly less abundant
or beautiful, twenty-one species being known, including twelve of the
beautiful green fruit pigeons, the smaller kinds of which are
ornamented with the most brilliant patches of colour on the head and
the under-surface. Next to these come the kingfishers, including sixteen
species, almost all of which are beautiful, end many are among the most
brilliantly-coloured birds that exist.

One of the most curious groups of birds, the Megapodii, or mound-makers,
is very abundant in the Moluccas. They are gallinaceous birds, about the
size of a small fowl, and generally of a dark ashy or sooty colour,
and they have remarkably large and strong feet and long claws. They are
allied to the "Maleo" of Celebes, of which an account has already been
given, but they differ in habits, most of these birds frequenting the
scrubby jungles along the sea-shore, where the soil is sandy, and there
is a considerable quantity of debris, consisting of sticks, shells,
seaweed, leaves, &c. Of this rubbish the Megapodius forms immense
mounds, often six or eight feet high and twenty or thirty feet in
diameter, which they are enabled to do with comparative ease, by means
of their large feet, with which they can grasp and throw backwards a
quantity of material. In the centre of this mound, at a depth of two or
three feet, the eggs are deposited, and are hatched by the gentle heat
produced by the fermentation of the vegetable matter of the mound.
When I first saw these mounds in the island of Lombock, I could hardly
believe that they were made by such small birds, but I afterwards met
with them frequently, and have once or twice come upon the birds engaged
in making them. They run a few steps backwards, grasping a quantity of
loose material in one foot, and throw it a long way behind them. When
once properly buried the eggs seem to be no more cared for, the young
birds working their way up through the heap of rubbish, and running off
at once into the forest. They come out of the egg covered with thick
downy feathers, and have no tail, although the wings are full developed.

I was so fortunate as to discover a new species (Megapodius wallacei),
which inhibits Gilolo, Ternate, and Bouru. It is the handsomest bird of
the genus, being richly banded with reddish brown on the back and wings;
and it differs from the other species in its habits. It frequents the
forests of the interior, and comes down to the sea-beach to deposit its
eggs, but instead of making a mound, or scratching a hole to receive
them, it burrows into the sand to the depth of about three feet
obliquely downwards, and deposits its eggs at the bottom. It then
loosely covers up the mouth of the hole, and is said by the natives to
obliterate and disguise its own footmarks leading to and from the hole,
by making many other tracks and scratches in the neighbourhood. It lays
its eggs only at night, and at Bouru a bird was caught early one morning
as it was coming out of its hole, in which several eggs were found. All
these birds seem to be semi-nocturnal, for their loud wailing cries may
be constantly heard late into the night and long before daybreak in the
morning. The eggs are all of a rusty red colour, and very large for the
size of the bird, being generally three or three and a quarter inches
long, by two or two and a quarter wide. They are very good eating, and
are much sought after by the natives.

Another large and extraordinary bird is the Cassowary, which inhabits
the island of Ceram only. It is a stout and strong bird, standing five
or six feet high, and covered with long coarse black hair-like feathers.
The head is ornamented with a large horny calque or helmet, and the bare
skin of the neck is conspicuous with bright blue and red colours. The
wings are quite absent, and are replaced by a group of horny black
spines like blunt porcupine quills.

These birds wander about the vast mountainous forests that cover the
island of Ceram, feeding chiefly on fallen fruits, and on insects or
crustacea. The female lays from three to five large and beautifully
shagreened green eggs upon a bed of leaves, the male and female sitting
upon them alternately for about a month. This bird is the helmeted
cassowary (Casuarius galeatus) of naturalists, and was for a long time
the only species known. Others have since been discovered in New Guinea,
New Britain, and North Australia.

It was in the Moluccas that I first discovered undoubted cases of
"mimicry" among birds, and these are so curious that I must briefly
describe them. It will be as well, however, first to explain what is
meant by mimicry in natural history. At page 205 of the first volume of
this work, I have described a butterfly which, when at rest, so closely
resembles a dead leaf, that it thereby escape the attacks of its
enemies. This is termed a "protective resemblance." If however the
butterfly, being itself savoury morsel to birds, had closely resembled
another butterfly which was disagreeable to birds, and therefore never
eaten by them, it would be as well protected as if it resembled a leaf;
and this is what has been happily termed "mimicry" by Mr. Bates, who
first discovered the object of these curious external imitations of one
insect by another belonging to a distinct genus or family, and sometimes
even to a distinct order. The clear-winged moth which resemble wasps and
hornets are the best examples of "mimicry" in our own country.

For a long time all the known cases of exact resemblance of one creature
to quite a different one were confined to insects, and it was therefore
with great pleasure that I discovered in the island of Bouru two birds
which I constantly mistook for each other, and which yet belonged to two
distinct and somewhat distant families. One of these is a honeysucker
named Tropidorhynchus bouruensis, and the other a kind of oriole, which
has been called Mimeta bouruensis. The oriole resembles the honeysucker
in the following particulars: the upper and under surfaces of the
two birds are exactly of the same tints of dark and light brown; the
Tropidorhynchus has a large bare black patch round the eyes; this is
copied in the Mimeta by a patch of black feathers. The top of the
head of the Tropidorhynchus has a scaly appearance from the narrow
scale-formed feathers, which are imitated by the broader feathers of
the Mimeta having a dusky line down each. The Tropidorhynchus has a pale
ruff formed of curious recurved feathers on the nape (which has given
the whole genus the name of Friar birds); this is represented in the
Mimeta by a pale band in the same position. Lastly, the bill of the
Tropidorhynchus is raised into a protuberant keel at the base, and the
Mimeta has the same character, although it is not a common one in the
genus. The result is, that on a superficial examination the birds are
identical, although they leave important structural differences, and
cannot be placed near each other in any natural arrangement.

In the adjacent island of Ceram we find very distinct species of both
these genera, and, strange to say, these resemble each other quite as
closely as do those of Bouru The Tropidorhynchus subcornutus is of an
earthy brown colour, washed with ochreish yellow, with bare orbits,
dusky: cheeks, and the usual recurved nape-ruff: The Mimeta forsteni
which accompanies it, is absolutely identical in the tints of every
part of the body, and the details are copied just as minutely as in the
former species.

We have two kinds of evidence to tell us which bird in this case is the
model, and which the copy. The honeysuckers are coloured in a manner
which is very general in the whole family to which they belong, while
the orioles seem to have departed from the gay yellow tints so common
among their allies. We should therefore conclude that it is the latter
who mimic the former. If so, however, they must derive some advantage
from the imitation, and as they are certainly weak birds, with small
feet and claws, they may require it. Now the Tropidorhynchi are very
strong and active birds, having powerful grasping claws, and long,
curved, sharp beaks. They assemble together in groups and small flocks,
and they haw a very loud bawling note which can be heard at a great
distance, and serves to collect a number together in time of danger.
They are very plentiful and very pugnacious, frequently driving away
crows and even hawks, which perch on a tree where a few of them are
assembled. It is very probable, therefore, that the smaller birds of
prey have learnt to respect these birds and leave them alone, and it may
thus be a great advantage for the weaker and less courageous Mimetas
to be mistaken for them. This being case, the laws of Variation and
Survival of the Fittest, will suffice to explain how the resemblance has
been brought about, without supposing any voluntary action on the part
of the birds themselves; and those who have read Mr. Darwin's "Origin of
Species" will have no difficulty in comprehending the whole process.

The insects of the Moluccas are pre-eminently beautiful, even when
compared with the varied and beautiful productions of other parts of the
Archipelago. The grand bird-winged butterflies (Ornithoptera) here reach
their maximum of size and beauty, and many of the Papilios, Pieridae
Danaidae, and Nymphalidae are equally preeminent. There is, perhaps, no
island in the world so small as Amboyna where so many grand insects are
to be found. Here are three of the very finest Ornithopterae--priamus,
helena, and remiss; three of the handsomest and largest
Papilios--ulysses, deiphobus, and gambrisius; one of the handsomest
Pieridae, Iphias leucippe; the largest of the Danaidae, Hestia idea;
and two unusually large and handsome Nymphalidae--Diadema pandarus,
and Charaxes euryalus. Among its beetles are the extraordinary Euchirus
longimanus, whose enormous legs spread over a space of eight inches,
and an unusual number of large and handsome Longicorns, Anthribidae, and
Buprestidae.

The beetles figured on the plate as characteristic of the Moluccas are:
1. A small specimen of the Euchirus longimanus, or Long-armed Chafer,
which has been already mentioned in the account of my residence at
Amboyna (Chapter XX.). The female has the fore legs of moderate length.
2. A fine weevil, (an undescribed species of Eupholus,) of rich blue and
emerald green colours, banded with black. It is a native of Ceram and
Goram, and is found on foliage. 3. A female of Xenocerus semiluctuosus,
one of the Anthribidae of delicate silky white and black colours. It
is abundant on fallen trunks and stumps in Ceram and Amboyna. 4. An
undescribed species of Xenocerus; a male, with very long and curious
antenna, and elegant black and white markings. It is found on fallen
trunks in Batchian. 5. An undescribed species of Arachnobas, a curious
genus of weevils peculiar to the Moluccas and New Guinea, and remarkable
for their long legs, and their habit of often sitting on leaves, and
turning rapidly round the edge to the under-surface when disturbed. It
was found in Gilolo. All these insects are represented of the natural
size.

Like the birds, the insects of the Moluccas show a decided affinity
with those of New Guinea rather than with the productions of the great
western islands of the Archipelago, but the difference in form and
structure between the productions of the east and west is not nearly
so marked here as in birds. This is probably due to the more immediate
dependence of insects on climate and vegetation, and the greater
facilities for their distribution in the varied stages of egg, pupa, and
perfect insect. This has led to a general uniformity in the insect-life
of the whole Archipelago, in accordance with the general uniformity
of its climate and vegetation; while on the other hand the great
susceptibility of the insect organization to the action of external
conditions has led to infinite detailed modifications of form and
colour, which have in many cases given a considerable diversity to the
productions of adjacent islands.

Owing to the great preponderance among the birds, of parrots, pigeons,
kingfishers, and sunbirds, almost all of gay or delicate colours, and
many adorned with the most gorgeous plumage, and to the numbers of very
large and showy butterflies which are almost everywhere to be met with,
the forests of the Moluccas offer to the naturalist a very striking
example of the luxuriance and beauty of animal life in the tropics. Yet
the almost entire absence of Mammalia, and of such wide-spread groups of
birds as woodpeckers, thrushes, jays, tits, and pheasants, must convince
him that he is in a part of the world which has, in reality but little
in common with the great Asiatic continent, although an unbroken chain
of islands seems to link them to it.



CHAPTER XXVIII. MACASSAR TO THE ARU ISLANDS IN A NATIVE PRAU.

(DECEMBER, 1856.)

IT was the beginning of December, and the rainy season at Macassar had
just set in. For nearly three months had beheld the sun rise daily above
the palm-groves, mount to the zenith, and descend like a globe of fire
into the ocean, unobscured for a single moment of his course. Now dark
leaden clouds had gathered over the whole heavens, and seemed to have
rendered him permanently invisible. The strong east winds, warm and dry
and dust-laden, which had hitherto blown as certainly as the sun had
risen, were now replaced by variable gusty breezes and heavy rains,
often continuous for three days and nights together; and the parched
and fissured rice stubbles which during the dry weather had extended in
every direction for miles around the town, were already so flooded as
to be only passable by boats, or by means of a labyrinth of paths on the
top of the narrow banks which divided the separate properties.

Five months of this kind of weather might be expected in Southern
Celebes, and I therefore determined to seek some more favourable climate
for collecting in during that period, and to return in the next dry
season to complete my exploration of the district. Fortunately for me
I was in one of the treat emporiums of the native trade of the
archipelago. Rattans from Borneo, sandal-wood and bees'-was from Flores
and Timor, tripang from the Gulf of Carpentaria, cajputi-oil from Bouru,
wild nutmegs and mussoi-bark from New Guinea, are all to be found in the
stores of the Chinese and Bugis merchants of Macassar, along with the
rice and coffee which are the chief products of the surrounding country.
More important than all these however is the trade to Aru, a group of
islands situated on the south-west coast of New Guinea, and of which
almost the whole produce comes to Macassar in native vessels. These
islands are quite out of the track of all European trade, and are
inhabited only by black mop-headed savages, who yet contribute to the
luxurious tastes of the most civilized races. Pearls, mother-of-pearl,
and tortoiseshell find their way to Europe, while edible birds' nests
and "tripang" or sea-slug are obtained by shiploads for the gastronomic
enjoyment of the Chinese.

The trade to these islands has existed from very early times, and it
is from them that Birds of Paradise, of the two kinds known to Linnaeus
were first brought The native vessels can only make the voyage once a
year, owing to the monsoons. They leave Macassar in December or January
at the beginning of the west monsoon, and return in July or August
with the full strength of the east monsoon. Even by the Macassar people
themselves, the voyage to the Aru Islands is looked upon as a rather
wild and romantic expedition, fall of novel sights and strange
adventures. He who has made it is looked up to as an authority, and it
remains with many the unachieved ambition of their lives. I myself had
hoped rather than expected ever to reach this "Ultima Thule" of the
East: and when I found that I really could do so now, had I but courage
to trust myself for a thousand miles' voyage in a Bugis prau, and for
six or seven months among lawless traders and ferocious savages, I felt
somewhat as I did when, a schoolboy, I was for the first time allowed
to travel outside the stage-coach, to visit that scene of all that is
strange and new and wonderful to young imaginations-London!

By the help of some kind friends I was introduced to the owner of one
of the large praus which was to sail in a few days. He was a Javanese
half-caste, intelligent, mild, and gentlemanly in his manners, and had
a young and pretty Dutch wife, whom he was going to leave behind during
his absence. When we talked about passage money he would fix no sum, but
insisted on leaving it entirely to me to pay on my return exactly what
I liked. "And then," said he, "whether you give me one dollar or a
hundred, I shall be satisfied, and shall ask no more."

The remainder of my stay was fully occupied in laying in stores,
engaging servants, and making every other preparation for an absence of
seven months from even the outskirts of civilization. On the morning of
December 13th, when we went on board at daybreak, it was raining hard.
We set sail and it came on to blow. Our boat was lost astern, our sails
damaged, and the evening found us hack again in Macassar harbour. We
remained there four days longer, owing to its raining all the time, thus
rendering it impossible to dry and repair the huge mat sails. All these
dreary days I remained on board, and during the rare intervals when it
didn't rain, made myself acquainted with our outlandish craft, some of
the peculiarities of which I will now endeavour to describe.

It was a vessel of about seventy tons burthen, and shaped something like
a Chinese junk. The deck sloped considerably downward to the bows, which
are thus the lowest part of the ship. There were two large rudders,
but instead of being planed astern they were hung on the quarters from
strong cross beams, which projected out two or three feet on each side,
and to which extent the deck overhung the sides of the vessel amidships.
The rudders were not hinged but hung with slings of rattan, the friction
of which keeps them in any position in which they are placed, and thus
perhaps facilitates steering. The tillers were not on deck, but entered
the vessel through two square openings into a lower or half deck about
three feet high, in which sit the two steersmen. In the after part of
the vessel was a low poop, about three and a half feet high, which
forms the captain's cabin, its furniture consisting of boxes, mats, and
pillows. In front of the poop and mainmast was a little thatched house
on deck, about four feet high to the ridge; and one compartment of this,
forming a cabin six and a half feet long by five and a half wide, I had
all to myself, and it was the snuggest and most comfortable little place
I ever enjoyed at sea. It was entered by a low sliding door of thatch
on one side, and had a very small window on the other. The floor was of
split bamboo, pleasantly elastic, raised six inches above the deck,
so as to be quite dry. It was covered with fine cane mats, for the
manufacture of which Macassar is celebrated; against the further wall
were arranged my guncase, insect-boxes, clothes, and books; my mattress
occupied the middle, and next the door were my canteen, lamp, and little
store of luxuries for the voyage; while guns, revolver, and hunting
knife hung conveniently from the roof. During these four miserable days
I was quite jolly in this little snuggery more so than I should have
been if confined the same time to the gilded and uncomfortable saloon of
a first-class steamer. Then, how comparatively sweet was everything
on board--no paint, no tar, no new rope, (vilest of smells to the
qualmish!) no grease, or oil, or varnish; but instead of these, bamboo
and rattan, and coir rope and palm thatch; pure vegetable fibres, which
smell pleasantly if they smell at all, and recall quiet scenes in the
green and shady forest.

Our ship had two masts, if masts they can be called c which were great
moveable triangles. If in an ordinary ship you replace the shrouds and
backstay by strong timbers, and take away the mast altogether, you have
the arrangement adopted on board a prau. Above my cabin, and resting on
cross-beams attached to the masts, was a wilderness of yards and spars,
mostly formed of bamboo. The mainyard, an immense affair nearly a
hundred feet long, was formed of many pieces of wood and bamboo bound
together with rattans in an ingenious manner. The sail carried by this
was of an oblong shape, and was hung out of the centre, so that when the
short end was hauled down on deck the long end mounted high in the air,
making up for the lowness of the mast itself. The foresail was of the
same shape, but smaller. Both these were of matting, and, with two jibs
and a fore and aft sail astern of cotton canvas, completed our rig.

The crew consisted of about thirty men, natives of Macassar and the
adjacent coasts and islands. They were mostly young, and were short,
broad-faced, good-humoured looking fellows. Their dress consisted
generally of a pair of trousers only, when at work, and a handkerchief
twisted round the head, to which in the evening they would add a thin
cotton jacket. Four of the elder men were "jurumudis," or steersmen, who
had to squat (two at a time) in the little steerage before described,
changing every six hours. Then there was an old man, the "juragan,"
or captain, but who was really what we should call the first mate; he
occupied the other half of the little house on deck. There were about
ten respectable men, Chinese or Bugis, whom our owner used to call "his
own people." He treated them very well, shared his meals with them, and
spoke to them always with perfect politeness; yet they were most of them
a kind of slave debtors, bound over by the police magistrate to work
for him at mere nominal wages for a term of years till their debts were
liquidated. This is a Dutch institution in this part of the world, and
seems to work well. It is a great boon to traders, who can do nothing
in these thinly-populated regions without trusting goods to agents
and petty dealers, who frequently squander them away in gambling and
debauchery. The lower classes are almost all in a chronic state of debt.
The merchant trusts them again and again, till the amount is something
serious, when he brings them to court and has their services allotted to
him for its liquidation. The debtors seem to think this no disgrace, but
rather enjoy their freedom from responsibility, and the dignity of their
position under a wealthy and well-known merchant. They trade a little on
their own account, and both parties seem to get on very well together.
The plan seems a more sensible one than that which we adopt, of
effectually preventing a man from earning anything towards paying his
debts by shutting him up in a jail.

My own servants were three in number. Ali, the Malay boy whom I had
picked up in Borneo, was my head man. He had already been with me a
year, could turn his hand to anything, and was quite attentive and
trustworthy. He was a good shot, and fond of shooting, and I had taught
him to skin birds very well. The second, named Baderoon, was a Macassar
lad; also a pretty good boy, but a desperate gambler. Under pretence of
buying a house for his mother, and clothes, for himself, he had received
four months' wages about a week before we sailed, and in a day or two
gambled away every dollar of it. He had come on board with no clothes,
no betel, or tobacco, or salt fish, all which necessary articles I was
obliged to send Ali to buy for him. These two lads were about sixteen, I
should suppose; the third was younger, a sharp little rascal named Baso,
who had been with me a month or two, and had learnt to cook tolerably.
He was to fulfil the important office of cook and housekeeper, for
I could not get any regular servants to go to such a terribly remote
country; one might as well ask a chef de cuisine to go to Patagonia.

On the fifth day that I had spent on board (Dec. 15th) the rain ceased,
and final preparations were made for starting. Sails were dried and
furled, boats were constantly coming and going, and stores for the
voyage, fruit, vegetables, fish, and palm sugar, were taken on board.
In the afternoon two women arrived with a large party of friends and
relations, and at parting there was a general noserubbing (the Malay
kiss), and some tears shed. These were promising symptoms for our
getting off the next day; and accordingly, at three in the morning, the
owner came on board, the anchor was immediately weighed, and by four we
set sail. Just as we were fairly off and clear of the other praus, the
old juragan repeated some prayers, all around responding with "Allah il
Allah," and a few strokes on a gong as an accompaniment, concluding with
all wishing each other "Salaamat jalan," a safe and happy journey.
We had a light breeze, a calm sea, and a fine morning, a prosperous
commencement of our voyage of about a thousand miles to the far-famed
Aru Islands.

The wind continued light and variable all day, with a calm in the
evening before the land breeze sprang up, were then passing the island
of "Tanakaki" (foot of the land), at the extreme south of this part of
Celebes. There are some dangerous rocks here, and as I was standing by
the bulwarks, I happened to spit over the side; one of the men begged I
would not do so just now, but spit on deck, as they were much afraid
of this place. Not quite comprehending, I made him repeat his request,
when, seeing he was in earnest, I said, "Very well, I suppose there are
'hantus' (spirits) here." "Yes," said he, "and they don't like anything
to be thrown overboard; many a prau has been lost by doing it." Upon
which I promised to be very careful. At sunset the good Mahometans
on board all repeated a few words of prayer with a general chorus,
reminding me of the pleasing and impressive "Ave. Maria" of Catholic
countries.

Dec. 20th.-At sunrise we were opposite the Bontyne mountain, said to be
one of the highest in Celebes. In the afternoon we passed the Salayer
Straits and had a little squall, which obliged us to lower our huge
mast, sails, and heavy yards. The rest of the evening we had a fine west
wind, which carried us on at near five knots an hour, as much as our
lumbering old tub can possibly go.

Dec. 21st.-A heavy swell from the south-west rolling us about most
uncomfortably. A steady wind was blowing however, and we got on very
well.

Dec. 22d.-The swell had gone down. We passed Boutong, a large island,
high, woody, and populous, the native place of some of our crew. A small
prau returning from Bali to the island of Goram overtook us. The nakoda
(captain) was known to our owner. They had been two years away, but were
full of people, with several black Papuans on board. At 6 P.M. we passed
Wangiwangi, low but not flat, inhabited and subject to Boutong. We had
now fairly entered the Molucca Sea. After dark it was a beautiful
sight to look down on our rudders, from which rushed eddying streams of
phosphoric light gemmed with whirling sparks of fire. It resembled (more
nearly than anything else to which I can compare it) one of the large
irregular nebulous star-clusters seen through a good telescope, with the
additional attraction of ever-changing form and dancing motion.

Dec. 23d.-Fine red sunrise; the island we left last evening barely
visible behind us. The Goram prau about a mile south of us. They have
no compass, yet they have kept a very true course during the night.
Our owner tells me they do it by the swell of the sea, the direction of
which they notice at sunset, and sail by it during the night. In these
seas they are never (in fine weather) more than two days without seeing
land. Of course adverse winds or currents sometimes carry them away,
but they soon fall in with some island, and there are always some old
sailors on board who know it, and thence take a new course. Last night
a shark about five feet long was caught, and this morning it was cut up
and cooked. In the afternoon they got another, and I had a little fried,
and found it firm and dry, but very palatable. In the evening the sun
set in a heavy bank of clouds, which, as darkness came on, assumed a
fearfully black appearance. According to custom, when strong wind or
rain is expected, our large sails-were furled, and with their yards let
down on deck, and a small square foresail alone kept up. The great mat
sails are most awkward things to manage in rough weather. The yards
which support them are seventy feet long, and of course very heavy, and
the only way to furl them being to roll up the sail on the boom, it is
a very dangerous thing to have them standing when overtaken by a squall.
Our crew; though numerous enough for a vessel of 700 instead of one of
70 tons, have it very much their own way, and there seems to be seldom
more than a dozen at work at a time. When anything important is to
be done, however, all start up willingly enough, but then all think
themselves at liberty to give their opinion, and half a dozen voices are
heard giving orders, and there is such a shrieking and confusion that it
seems wonderful anything gets done at all.

Considering we have fifty men of several tribes and tongues onboard,
wild, half-savage looking fellows, and few of them feeling any of the
restraints of morality or education, we get on wonderfully well. There
is no fighting or quarrelling, as there would certainly be among the
same number of Europeans with as little restraint upon their actions,
and there is scarcely any of that noise and excitement which might be
expected. In fine weather the greater part of them are quietly enjoying
themselves--some are sleeping under the shadow of the sails; others,
in little groups of three or four, are talking or chewing betel; one is
making a new handle to his chopping-knife, another is stitching away
at a new pair of trousers or a shirt, and all are as quiet and
well-conducted as on board the best-ordered English merchantman. Two or
three take it by turns to watch in the bows and see after the braces
and halyards of the great sails; the two steersmen are below in the
steerage; our captain, or the juragan, gives the course, guided partly
by the compass and partly by the direction of the wind, and a watch of
two or three on the poop look after the trimming of the sails and call
out the hours by the water-clock. This is a very ingenious contrivance,
which measures time well in both rough weather and fine. It is simply
a bucket half filled with water, in which floats the half of a
well-scraped cocoa-nut shell. In the bottom of this shell is a very
small hole, so that when placed to float in the bucket a fine thread of
water squirts up into it. This gradually fills the shell, and the size
of the hole is so adjusted to the capacity of the vessel that, exactly
at the end of an hour, plump it goes to the bottom. The watch then cries
out the number of hours from sunrise and sets the shell afloat again
empty. This is a very good measurer of time. I tested it with my watch
and found that it hardly varied a minute from one hour to another, nor
did the motion of the vessel have any effect upon it, as the water in
the bucket of course kept level. It has a great advantage for a rude
people in being easily understood, in being rather bulky and easy
to see, and in the final submergence being accompanied with a little
bubbling and commotion of the water, which calls the attention to it. It
is also quickly replaced if lost while in harbour.

Our captain and owner I find to be a quiet, good-tempered man, who seems
to get on very well with all about him. When at sea he drinks no wine or
spirits, but indulges only in coffee and cakes, morning and afternoon,
in company with his supercargo and assistants. He is a man of some
little education, can read and write well both Dutch and Malay, uses a
compass, and has a chart. He has been a trader to Aru for many years,
and is well known to both Europeans and natives in this part of the
world.

Dec. 24th.-Fine, and little wind. No land in sight for the first time
since we left Macassar. At noon calm, with heavy showers, in which our
crew wash their clothes, anti in the afternoon the prau is covered with
shirts, trousers, and sarongs of various gay colours. I made a discovery
to-day which at first rather alarmed me. The two ports, or openings,
through which the tillers enter from the lateral rudders are not more
than three or four feet above the surface of the water, which thus has
a free entrance into the vessel. I of course had imagined that this
open space from one side to the other was separated from the hold by
a water-tight bulkhead, so that a sea entering might wash out at the
further side, and do no more harm than give the steersmen a drenching.
To my surprise end dismay, however, I find that it is completely open to
the hold, so that half-a-dozen seas rolling in on a stormy night would
nearly, or quite, swamp us. Think of a vessel going to sea for a month
with two holes, each a yard square, into the hold, at three feet above
the water-line,-holes, too, which cannot possibly be closed! But our
captain says all praus are so; and though he acknowledges the danger,
"he does not know how to alter it--the people are used to it; he does
not understand praus so well as they do, and if such a great alteration
were made, he should be sure to have difficulty in getting a crew!" This
proves at all events that praus must be good sea-boats, for the captain
has been continually making voyages in them for the last ten years, and
says he has never known water enough enter to do any harm.

Dec.25th.-Christmas-day dawned upon us with gusts of wind, driving rain,
thunder and lightning, added to which a short confused sea made our
queer vessel pitch and roll very uncomfortably. About nine o'clock,
however, it cleared up, and we then saw ahead of us the fine island of
Bouru, perhaps forty or fifty miles distant, its mountains wreathed with
clouds, while its lower lands were still invisible. The afternoon was
fine, and the wind got round again to the west; but although this is
really the west monsoon, there is no regularity or steadiness about it,
calms and breezes from every point of the compass continually occurring.
The captain, though nominally a Protestant, seemed to have no idea of
Christmas-day as a festival. Our dinner was of rice and curry as usual,
and an extra glass of wine was all I could do to celebrate it.

Dec. 26th.--Fine view of the mountains of Bouru, which we have now
approached considerably. Our crew seem rather a clumsy lot. They do not
walk the deck with the easy swing of English sailors, but hesitate
and stagger like landsmen. In the night the lower boom of our mainsail
broke, and they were all the morning repairing it. It consisted of two
bamboos lashed together, thick end to thin, and was about seventy feet
long. The rigging and arrangement of these praus contrasts strangely
with that of European vessels, in which the various ropes and spars,
though much more numerous, are placed so as not to interfere with each
other's action. Here the case is quite different; for though there are
no shrouds or stays to complicate the matter, yet scarcely anything can
be done without first clearing something else out of the way. The large
sails cannot be shifted round to go on the other tack without first
hauling down the jibs, and the booms of the fore and aft sails have to
be lowered and completely detached to perform the same operation. Then
there are always a lot of ropes foul of each other, and all the sails
can never be set (though they are so few) without a good part of their
surface having the wind kept out of them by others. Yet praus are much
liked even by those who have had European vessels, because of their
cheapness both in first cost and in keeping up; almost all repairs can
be done by the crew, and very few European stores are required.

Dec. 28th.--This day we saw the Banda group, the volcano first
appearing,--a perfect cone, having very much the outline of the Egyptian
pyramids, and looking almost as regular. In the evening the smoke rested
over its summit like a small stationary cloud. This was my first view
of an active volcano, but pictures and panoramas have so impressed
such things on one's mind, that when we at length behold them they seem
nothing extraordinary.

Dec. 30th.--Passed the island of Teor, and a group near it, which are
very incorrectly marked on the charts. Flying-fish were numerous to-day.
It is a smaller species than that of the Atlantic, and more active and
elegant in its motions. As they skim along the surface they turn on
their sides, so as fully to display their beautiful fins, taking a
flight of about a hundred yards, rising and falling in a most graceful
manner. At a little distance they exactly resemble swallows, and no one
who sees them can doubt that they really do fly, not merely descend in
an oblique direction from the height they gain by their first spring. In
the evening an aquatic bird, a species of booby (Sula fiber.) rested on
our hen-coop, and was caught by the neck by one of my boys.

Dec. 31st--At daybreak the Ke Islands (pronounced Kay) were in sight,
where we are to stay a few days. About noon we rounded the northern
point, and endeavoured to coast along to the anchorage; but being now
on the leeward side of the island, the wind came in violent irregular
gusts, and then leaving us altogether, we were carried back by a strong
current. Just then two boats-load of natives appeared, and our owner
having agreed with them to tow us into harbour, they tried to do so,
assisted by our own boat, but could make no way. We were therefore
obliged to anchor in a very dangerous place on a rocky bottom, and we
were engaged till nearly dark getting hawsers secured to some rocks
under water. The coast of Ke along which we had passed was very
picturesque. Light coloured limestone rocks rose abruptly from the water
to the height of several hundred feet, everywhere broken into jutting
peaks and pinnacles, weather-worn into sharp points and honeycombed
surfaces, and clothed throughout with a most varied and luxuriant
vegetation. The cliffs above the sea offered to our view screw-pines
and arborescent Liliaceae of strange forms, mingled with shrubs and
creepers; while the higher slopes supported a dense growth of forest
trees. Here and there little bays and inlets presented beaches of
dazzling whiteness. The water was transparent as crystal, and tinged
the rock-strewn slope which plunged steeply into its unfathomable depths
with colours varying from emerald to lapis-lazuli. The sea was calm as a
lake, and the glorious sun of the tropics threw a flood of golden light
over all. The scene was to me inexpressibly delightful. I was in a new
world, and could dream of the wonderful productions hid in those rocky
forests, and in those azure abysses. But few European feet had ever
trodden the shores I gazed upon its plants, and animals, and men were
alike almost unknown, and I could not help speculating on what my
wanderings there for a few days might bring to light.



CHAPTER XXIX. THE KE ISLANDS.

(JANUARY 1857)

THE native boats that had come to meet us were three or four in number,
containing in all about fifty men.

They were long canoes, with the bow and stern rising up into a beak
six or night feet high, decorated with shells and waving plumes of
cassowaries hair. I now had my first view of Papuans in their own
country, and in less than five minutes was convinced that the opinion
already arrived at by the examination of a few Timor and New Guinea
slaves was substantially correct, and that the people I now had an
opportunity of comparing side by side belonged to two of the most
distinct and strongly marked races that the earth contains. Had I been
blind, I could have been certain that these islanders were not Malays.
The loud, rapid, eager tones, the incessant motion, the intense vital
activity manifested in speech and action, are the very antipodes of the
quiet, unimpulsive, unanimated Malay These Ke men came up singing and
shouting, dipping their paddles deep in the water and throwing up clouds
of spray; as they approached nearer they stood up in their canoes and
increased their noise and gesticulations; and on coming alongside,
without asking leave, and without a moment's hesitation, the greater
part of them scrambled up on our deck just as if they were come to take
possession of a captured vessel. Then commenced a scene of indescribable
confusion. These forty black, naked, mop-headed savages seemed
intoxicated with joy and excitement. Not one of them could remain still
for a moment. Every individual of our crew was in turn surrounded and
examined, asked for tobacco or arrack, grinned at and deserted for
another. All talked at once, and our captain was regularly mobbed by
the chief men, who wanted to be employed to tow us in, and who begged
vociferously to be paid in advance. A few presents of tobacco made their
eyes glisten; they would express their satisfaction by grins and shouts,
by rolling on deck, or by a headlong leap overboard. Schoolboys on an
unexpected holiday, Irishmen at a fair, or mid-shipmen on shore, would
give but a faint idea of the exuberant animal enjoyment of these people.

Under similar circumstances Malays could not behave as these Papuans
did. If they came on board a vessel (after asking permission), not a
word would be at first spoken, except a few compliments, and only after
some time, and very cautiously, world any approach be made to business.
One would speak at a time, with a low voice and great deliberation,
and the mode of making a bargain would be by quietly refusing all your
offers, or even going away without saying another word about the matter,
unless advanced your price to what they were willing to accept.
Our crew, many of whom had not made the voyage before, seemed quite
scandalized at such unprecedented bad manners, and only very gradually
made any approach to fraternization with the black fellows. They
reminded me of a party of demure and well-behaved children suddenly
broken in upon by a lot of wild romping, riotous boys, whose conduct
seems most extraordinary and very naughty. These moral features are
more striking and more conclusive of absolute diversity than oven
the physical contrast presented by the two races, though that is
sufficiently remarkable. The sooty blackness of the skin, the mop-like
head of frizzly hair, and, most important of all, the marked form of
countenance of quite a different type from that of the Malay, are
what we cannot believe to result from mere climatal or other modifying
influences on one and the same race. The Malay face is of the Mongolian
type, broad and somewhat flat. The brows are depressed, the mouth wide,
but not projecting, and the nose small and well formed but for the great
dilatation of the nostrils. The face is smooth, and rarely develops the
trace of a beard; the hair black, coarse, and perfectly straight. The
Papuan, on the other hand, has a face which we may say is compressed and
projecting. The brows are protuberant and overhanging, the mouth
large and prominent, while the nose is very large, the apex elongated
downwards, the ridge thick, and the nostrils large. It is an obtrusive
and remarkable feature in the countenance, the very reverse of what
obtains in the Malay face. The twisted beard and frizzly hair complete
this remarkable contrast. Hero then I had reached a new world, inhabited
by a strange people. Between the Malayan tribes, among whom I had for
some years been living, and the Papuan races, whose country I had now
entered, we may fairly say that there is as much difference, both
moral and physical, as between the red Indians of South America and the
negroes of Guinea on the opposite side of the Atlantic.

Jan. 1st, 1857.-This has been a day of thorough enjoyment. I have
wandered in the forests of an island rarely seen by Europeans. Before
daybreak we left our anchorage, and in an hour reached the village of
Har, where we were to stay three or four days. The range of hills here
receded so as to form a small bay, and they were broken up into peaks
and hummocks with intervening flats and hollows. A broad beach of
the whitest sand lined the inner part of the bay, backed by a mass of
cocoa-nut palms, among which the huts were concealed, and surmounted by
a dense and varied growth of timber. Canoes and boats of various sizes
were drawn up on the beach and one or two idlers, with a few children
and a dog, gazed at our prau as we came to an anchor.

When we went on shore the first thing that attracted us was a large and
well-constructed shed, under which a long boat was being built, while
others in various stages of completion were placed at intervals along
the beach. Our captain, who wanted two of moderate size for the trade
among the islands at Aru, immediately began bargaining for them, and in
a short tine had arranged the nuns number of brass guns, gongs, sarongs,
handkerchiefs, axes, white plates, tobacco, and arrack, which he was to
give for a hair which could be got ready in four days. We then went
to the village, which consisted only of three or four huts, situated
immediately above the beach on an irregular rocky piece of ground
overshadowed with cocoa-nuts, palms, bananas, and other fruit trees.
The houses were very rude, black, and half rotten, raised a few feet on
posts with low sides of bamboo or planks, and high thatched roofs. They
had small doors and no windows, an opening under the projecting gables
letting the smoke out and a little light in. The floors were of strips
of bamboo, thin, slippery, and elastic, and so weak that my feet were
in danger of plunging through at every step. Native boxes of
pandanus-leaves and slabs of palm pith, very neatly constructed, mats
of the same, jars and cooking pots of native pottery, and a few European
plates and basins, were the whole furniture, and the interior was
throughout dark and smoke-blackened, and dismal in the extreme.

Accompanied by Ali and Baderoon, I now attempted to make some
explorations, and we were followed by a train of boys eager to see what
we were going to do. The most trodden path from the beach led us into a
shady hollow, where the trees were of immense height and the undergrowth
scanty. From the summits of these trees came at intervals a deep booming
sound, which at first puzzled us, but which we soon found to proceed
from some large pigeons. My boys shot at them, and after one or two
misses, brought one down. It was a magnificent bird twenty inches long,
of a bluish white colour, with the back wings and tail intense metallic
green, with golden, blue, and violet reflexions, the feet coral red,
and the eyes golden yellow. It is a rare species, which I have named
Carpophaga concinna, and is found only in a few small islands, where,
however, it abounds. It is the same species which in the island of Banda
is called the nutmeg-pigeon, from its habit of devouring the fruits,
the seed or nutmeg being thrown up entire and uninjured. Though these
pigeons have a narrow beak, yet their jaws and throat are so extensible
that they can swallow fruits of very large size. I had before shot a
species much smaller than this one, which had a number of hard globular
palm-fruits in its crop, each more than an inch in diameter.

A little further the path divided into two, one leading along the beach,
and across mangrove and sago swamps the other rising to cultivated
grounds. We therefore returned, and taking a fresh departure from
the village, endeavoured to ascend the hills and penetrate into the
interior. The path, however, was a most trying one. Where there was
earth, it was a deposit of reddish clay overlying the rock, and was worn
so smooth by the attrition of naked feet that my shoes could obtain no
hold on the sloping surface. A little farther we came to the bare rock,
and this was worse, for it was so rugged and broken, and so honeycombed
and weatherworn into sharp points and angles, that my boys, who had
gone barefooted all their lives, could not stand it. Their feet began to
bleed, and I saw that if I did not want them completely lamed it would
be wise to turn lack. My own shoes, which were rather thin, were but a
poor protection, and would soon have been cut to pieces; yet our little
naked guides tripped along with the greatest ease and unconcern, and
seemed much astonished at our effeminacy in not being able to take a
walk which to them was a perfectly agreeable one. During the rest of our
stay in the island we were obliged to confine ourselves to the vicinity
of the shore and the cultivated grounds, and those more level portions
of the forest where a little soil had accumulated and the rock had been
less exposed to atmospheric action.

The island of Ke (pronounced exactly as the letter K, but erroneously
spelt in our maps Key or Ki) is long and narrow, running in a north and
south direction, and consists almost entirely of rock and mountain. It
is everywhere covered with luxuriant forests, and in its bays and inlets
the sand is of dazzling whiteness, resulting from the decomposition of
the coralline limestone of which it is entirely composed. In all the
little swampy inlets and valleys sago trees abound, and these supply the
main subsistence of the natives, who grow no rice, and have scarcely any
other cultivated products but cocoa-nuts, plantains, and yams. From the
cocoa-nuts, which surround every hut, and which thrive exceedingly on
the porous limestone soil and under the influence of salt breezes, oil
is made which is sold at a good price to the Aru traders, who all touch
here to lay in their stuck of this article, as well as to purchase boats
and native crockery. Wooden bowls, pans, and trays are also largely made
here, hewn out of solid blocks of wood with knife and adze; and these
are carried to all parts of the Moluccas. But the art in which the
natives of Ke pre-eminently excel is that of boat building. Their
forests supply abundance of fine timber, though, probably not more
so than many other islands, and from some unknown causes these remote
savages have come to excel in what seems a very difficult art. Their
small canoes are beautifully formed, broad and low in the centre, but
rising at each end, where they terminate in high-pointed beaks more
or less carved, and ornamented with a plume of feathers. They are not
hollowed out of a tree, but are regularly built of planks running from
ego to end, and so accurately fitted that it is often difficult to find
a place where a knife-blade can be inserted between the joints. The
larger ones are from 20 to 30 tons burthen, and are finished ready for
sea without a nail or particle of iron being used, and with no other
tools than axe, adze, and auger. These vessels are handsome to look at,
good sailers, and admirable sea-boats, and will make long voyages with
perfect safety, traversing the whole Archipelago from New Guinea to
Singapore in seas which, as every one who has sailed much in them can
testify, are not so smooth and tempest-free as word-painting travellers
love to represent them.

The forests of Ke produce magnificent timber, tall, straight, and
durable, of various qualities, some of which are said to be superior
to the best Indian teak. To make each pair of planks used in the
construction of the larger boats an entire tree is consumed. It is
felled, often miles away from the shore, cut across to the proper
length, and then hewn longitudinally into two equal portions. Each of
these forms a plank by cutting down with the axe to a uniform thickness
of three or four inches, leaving at first a solid block at each end to
prevent splitting. Along the centre of each plank a series of projecting
pieces are left, standing up three or four inches, about the same width,
and a foot long; these are of great importance in the construction of
the vessel. When a sufficient number of planks have been made, they are
laboriously dragged through the forest by three or four men each to the
beach, where the boat is to be built. A foundation piece, broad in the
middle and rising considerably at each end, is first laid on blocks and
properly shored up. The edges of this are worked true and smooth with
the adze, and a plank, properly curved and tapering at each end, is held
firmly up against it, while a line is struck along it which allows it to
be cut so as to fit exactly. A series of auger holes, about as large as
one's finger, are then bored along the opposite edges, and pins of very
hard wood are fitted to these, so that the two planks are held firmly,
and can be driven into the closest contact; and difficult as this seems
to do without any other aid than rude practical skill in forming each
edge to the true corresponding curves, and in poring the holes so as
exactly to match both in position and direction, yet so well is it
done that the best European shipwright cannot produce sounder or
closer-fitting joints. The boat is built up in this way by fitting plank
to plank till the proper height and width are obtained. We have now a
skin held together entirely by the hardwood pins connecting the edges of
the planks, very strong and elastic, but having nothing but the adhesion
of these pins to prevent the planks gaping. In the smaller boats seats,
in the larger ones cross-beams, are now fixed. They are sprung into
slight notches cut to receive them, and are further secured to the
projecting pieces of the plank below by a strong lashing of rattan. Ribs
are now formed of single pieces of tough wood chosen and trimmed so as
exactly to fit on to the projections from each plank, being slightly
notched to receive them, and securely bound to them by rattans passed
through a hole in each projecting piece close to the surface of the
plank. The ends are closed against the vertical prow and stern posts,
and further secured with pegs and rattans, and then the boat is
complete; and when fitted with rudders, masts, and thatched covering,
is ready to do battle with, the waves. A careful consideration of the
principle of this mode of construction, and allowing for the strength
and binding qualities of rattan (which resembles in these respects wire
rather than cordage), makes me believe that a vessel carefully built
in this manner is actually stronger and safer than one fastened in the
ordinary way with nails.

During our stay here we were all very busy. Our captain was daily
superintending the completion of his two small praus. All day long
native boats were coming with fish, cocoa-nuts, parrots and lories,
earthen pans, sirip leaf, wooden bowls, and trays, &c. &e., which every
one of the fifty inhabitants of our prau seemed to be buying on his own
account, till all available and most unavailable space of our vessel
was occupied with these miscellaneous articles: for every man on board
a prau considers himself at liberty to trade, and to carry with him
whatever he can afford to buy.

Money is unknown and valueless here--knives, cloth, and arrack forming
the only medium of exchange, with tobacco for small coin. Every
transaction is the subject of a special bargain, and the cause of much
talking. It is absolutely necessary to offer very little, as the natives
are never satisfied till you add a little more. They are then far better
pleased than if you had given them twice the amount at first and refused
to increase it.

I, too, was doing a little business, having persuaded some of the
natives to collect insects for me; and when they really found that I
gave them most fragrant tobacco for worthless black and green beetles, I
soon had scores of visitors, men, women, and children, bringing bamboos
full of creeping things, which, alas! too frequently had eaten each
other into fragments during the tedium of a day's confinement. Of one
grand new beetle, glittering with ruby and emerald tints, I got a large
quantity, having first detected one of its wing-cases ornamenting the
outside of a native's tobacco pouch. It was quite a new species, and had
not been found elsewhere than on this little island. It is one of the
Buprestidae, and has been named Cyphogastra calepyga.

Each morning after an early breakfast I wandered by myself into the
forest, where I found delightful occupation in capturing the large and
handsome butterflies, which were tolerably abundant, and most of them
new to me; for I was now upon the confines of the Moluccas and New
Guinea,--a region the productions of which were then among the most
precious and rare in the cabinets of Europe. Here my eyes were feasted
for the first time with splendid scarlet lories on the wing, as well
as by the sight of that most imperial butterfly, the "Priamus" of
collectors, or a closely allied species, but flying so high that I did
not succeed in capturing a specimen. One of them was brought me in a
bamboo, bored up with a lot of beetles, and of course torn to pieces.
The principal drawback of the place for a collector is the want of good
paths, and the dreadfully rugged character of the surface, requiring
the attention to be so continually directed to securing a footing, as to
make it very difficult to capture active winged things, who pass out of
reach while one is glancing to see that the next step may not plunge one
into a chasm or over a precipice. Another inconvenience is that there
are no running streams, the rock being of so porous a nature that the
surface-water everywhere penetrates its fissures; at least such is the
character of the neighbourhood we visited, the only water being small
springs trickling out close to the sea-beach.

In the forests of Ke, arboreal Liliaceae and Pandanaceae abound, and
give a character to the vegetation in the more exposed rocky places.
Flowers were scarce, and there were not many orchids, but I noticed
the fine white butterfly-orchis, Phalaenopsis grandiflora, or a species
closely allied to it. The freshness and vigour of the vegetation was
very pleasing, and on such an arid rocky surface was a sure indication
of a perpetually humid climate. Tall clean trunks, many of them
buttressed, and immense trees of the fig family, with aerial roots
stretching out and interlacing and matted together for fifty or a
hundred feet above the ground, were the characteristic features; and
there was an absence of thorny shrubs and prickly rattans, which would
have made these wilds very pleasant to roam in, had it not been for
the sharp honeycombed rocks already alluded to. In damp places a fine
undergrowth of broadleaved herbaceous plants was found, about which
swarmed little green lizards, with tails of the most "heavenly blue,"
twisting in and out among the stalks and foliage so actively that I
often caught glimpses of their tails only, when they startled me by
their resemblance to small snakes. Almost the only sounds in these
primeval woods proceeded from two birds, the red lories, who utter
shrill screams like most of the parrot tribe, and the large green
nutmeg-pigeon, whose voice is either a loud and deep boom, like two
notes struck upon a very large gong, or sometimes a harsh toad-like
croak, altogether peculiar and remarkable. Only two quadrupeds are
said by the natives to inhabit the island--a wild pig and a Cuscus, or
Eastern opossum, of neither of which could I obtain specimens.

The insects were more abundant, and very interesting. Of butterflies
I caught thirty-five species, most of them new to me, and many quite
unknown in European collections. Among them was the fine yellow and
black Papilio euchenor, of which but few specimens had been previously
captured, and several other handsome butterflies of large size, as well
as some beautiful little "blues," and some brilliant dayflying moths.
The beetle tribe were less abundant, yet I obtained some very fine and
rare species. On the leaves of a slender shrub in an old clearing I
found several fine blue and black beetles of the genus Eupholus, which
almost rival in beauty the diamond beetles of South America. Some
cocoa-nut palms in blossom on the beach were frequented by a fine green
floral beetle (Lomaptera) which, when the flowers were shaken, flew off
like a small swarm of bees. I got one of our crew to climb up the
tree, and he brought me a good number in his hand; and seeing they were
valuable, I sent him up again with my net to shake the flowers into, and
thus secured a large quantity. My best capture, however, was the
superb insect of the Buprestis family, already mentioned as having been
obtained from the natives, who told me they found it in rotten trees in
the mountains.

In the forest itself the only common and conspicuous coleoptera were
two tiger beetles. One, Therates labiata, was much larger than our green
tiger beetle, of a purple black colour, with green metallic glosses,
and the broad upper lip of a bright yellow. It was always found upon
foliage, generally of broad-leaned herbaceous plants, and in damp and
gloomy situations, taking frequent short flights from leaf to leaf, and
preserving an alert attitude, as if always looking out for its prey. Its
vicinity could be immediately ascertained, often before it was seen,
by a very pleasant odour, like otto of roses, which it seems to emit
continually, and which may probably be attractive to the small insects
on which it feeds. The other, Tricondyla aptera, is one of the
most curious forms in the family of the Cicindelidae, and is almost
exclusively confined to the Malay islands. In shape it resembles a very
large ant, more than an inch long, and of a purple black colour. Like an
ant also it is wingless, and is generally found ascending trees, passing
around the trunks in a spiral direction when approached, to avoid
capture, so that it requires a sudden run and active fingers to secure
a specimen. This species emits the usual fetid odour of the ground
beetles. My collections during our four days' stay at Ke were as
follow:--Birds, 13 species; insects, 194 species; and 3 kinds of
land-shells.

There are two kinds of people inhabiting these islands--the indigenes,
who have the Papuan characters strongly marked, and who are pagans; and
a mixed race, who are nominally Mahometans, and wear cotton clothing,
while the former use only a waist cloth of cotton or bark. These
Mahometans are said to have been driven out of Banda by the early
European settlers. They were probably a brown race, more allied to the
Malays, and their mixed descendants here exhibit great variations of
colour, hair, and features, graduating between the Malay and Papuan
types. It is interesting to observe the influence of the early
Portuguese trade with these countries in the words of their language,
which still remain in use even among these remote and savage islanders.
"Lenco" for handkerchief, and "faca" for knife, are here used to the
exclusion of the proper Malay terms. The Portuguese and Spaniards were
truly wonderful conquerors and colonizers. They effected more rapid
changes in the countries they conquered than any other nations of modern
times, resembling the Romans in their power of impressing their own
language, religion, and manners on rode and barbarous tribes.

The striking contrast of character between these people and the Malays
is exemplified in many little traits. One day when I was rambling in the
forest, an old man stopped to look at me catching an insect. He stood
very quiet till I had pinned and put it away in my collecting box, when
he could contain himself no longer, but bent almost double, and enjoyed
a hearty roar of laughter. Every one will recognise this as a true negro
trait. A Malay would have stared, and asked with a tone of bewilderment
what I was doing, for it is but little in his nature to laugh, never
heartily, and still less at or in the presence of a stranger, to whom,
however, his disdainful glances or whispered remarks are less agreeable
than the most boisterous open expression of merriment. The women here
were not so much frightened at strangers, or made to keep themselves so
much secluded as among the Malay races; the children were more merry and
had the "nigger grin," while the noisy confusion of tongues among the
men, and their excitement on very ordinary occasions, are altogether
removed from the general taciturnity and reserve of the Malay.

The language of the Ke people consists of words of one, two, or three
syllables in about equal proportions, and has many aspirated and a
few guttural sounds. The different villages have slight differences of
dialect, but they are mutually intelligible, and, except in words
that have evidently been introduced during a long-continued commercial
intercourse, seem to have no affinity whatever with the Malay languages.

Jan. 6th.-The small boats being finished, we sailed for Aru at 4 P.M.,
and as we left the shores of Ke had a line view of its rugged and
mountainous character; ranges of hills, three or four thousand feet
high, stretching southwards as far as the eye could reach, everywhere
covered with a lofty, dense, and unbroken forest. We had very light
winds, and it therefore took us thirty hours to make the passage of
sixty miles to the low, or flat, but equally forest-covered Aru Islands,
where we anchored in the harbour of Dobbo at nine in the evening of the
next day.

My first voyage in a prau being thus satisfactorily terminated, I must,
before taking leave of it for some months, bear testimony to the merits
of the queer old-world vessel. Setting aside all ideas of danger, which
is probably, after all, not more than in any other craft, I must declare
that I have never, either before or since, made a twenty days' voyage
so pleasantly, or perhaps, more correctly speaking, with so little
discomfort. This I attribute chiefly to having my small cabin on deck,
and entirely to myself, to having my own servants to wait upon me, and
to the absence of all those marine-store smells of paint, pitch, tallow,
and new cordage, which are to me insupportable. Something is also to be
put down to freedom from all restraint of dress, hours of meals, &c.,
and to the civility and obliging disposition of the captain. I had
agreed to have my meals with him, but whenever I wished it I had them in
my own berth, and at what hours I felt inclined. The crew were all civil
and good-tempered, and with very little discipline everything went on
smoothly, and the vessel was kept very clean and in pretty good order,
so that on the whole I was much delighted with the trip, and was
inclined to rate the luxuries of the semi-barbarous prau as surpassing
those of the most magnificent screw-steamer, that highest result of our
civilisation.



CHAPTER XXX. THE ARU ISLANDS--RESIDENCE IN DOBBO

(JANUARY TO MARCH 1857.)

On the 8th of January, 1857, I landed at Dobbo, the trading settlement
of the Bugis and Chinese, who annually visit the Aru Islands. It
is situated on the small island of Wamma, upon a spit of sand which
projects out to the north, and is just wide enough to contain three rows
of houses. Though at first sight a most strange and desolate-looking
place to build a village on, it has many advantages. There is a clear
entrance from the west among the coral reefs that border the land, and
there is good anchorage for vessels, on one side of the village or the
other, in both the east and west monsoons. Being fully exposed to the
sea-breezes in three directions it is healthy, and the soft sandy heath
offers great facilities for hauling up the praus, in order to secure
them from sea-worms and prepare them for the homeward voyage. At its
southern extremity the sand-bank merges in the beach of the island,
and is backed by a luxuriant growth of lofty forest. The houses are of
various sizes, but are all built after one pattern, being merely large
thatched sheds, a small portion of which, next the entrance, is used as
a dwelling, while the rest is parted oft; and often divided by one or
two floors, in order better to stow away merchandise and native produce.

As we had arrived early in the season, most of the houses were
empty, and the place looked desolate in the extreme--the whole of
the inhabitants who received us on our landing amounting to about
half-a-dozen Bugis and Chinese. Our captain, Herr Warzbergen, had
promised to obtain a house for me, but unforeseen difficulties presented
themselves. One which was to let had no roof; and the owner, who was
building it on speculation, could not promise to finish it in less
than a month. Another, of which the owner was dead, and which I might
therefore take undisputed possession of as the first comer, wanted
considerable repairs, and no one could be found to do the work,
although about four times its value was offered. The captain, therefore,
recommended me to take possession of a pretty good house near his own,
whose owner was not expected for some weeks; and as I was anxious to be
on shore, I immediately had it cleared out, and by evening had all my
things housed, and was regularly installed as an inhabitant of Dobbo.
I had brought with me a cane chair, and a few light boards, which were
soon rigged up into a table and shelves. A broad bamboo bench served as
sofa and bedstead, my boxes were conveniently arranged, my mats spread
on the floor, a window cut in the palm-leaf wall to light my table,
and though the place was as miserable and gloomy a shed as could be
imagined, I felt as contented as if I had obtained a well-furnished
mansion, and looked forward to a month's residence in it with unmixed
satisfaction.

The next morning, after an early breakfast, I set off to explore
the virgin forests of Aru, anxious to set my mind at rest as to the
treasures they were likely to yield, and the probable success of my
long-meditated expedition. A little native imp was our guide, seduced by
the gift of a German knife, value three-halfpence, and my Macassar boy
Baderoon brought his chopper to clear the path if necessary.

We had to walk about half a mile along the beach, the ground behind the
village being mostly swampy, and then turned into the forest along a
path which leads to the native village of Wamma, about three miles off
on the other side of the island. The path was a narrow one, and very
little used, often swampy and obstructed by fallen trees, so that after
about a mile we lost it altogether, our guide having turned back, and we
were obliged to follow his example. In the meantime, however, I had not
been idle, and my day's captures determined the success of my journey
in an entomological point of view. I had taken about thirty species of
butterflies, more than I had ever captured in a day since leaving the
prolific banks of the Amazon, and among them were many most rare and
beautiful insects, hitherto only known by a few specimens from New
Guinea. The large and handsome spectre butterfly, Hestia durvillei; the
pale-winged peacock butterfly, Drusilla catops; and the most brilliant
and wonderful of the clear-winged moths, Cocytia durvillei, were
especially interesting, as well, as several little "blues," equalling in
brilliancy and beauty anything the butterfly world can produce. In the
other groups of insects I was not so successful, but this was not to
be wondered at in a mere exploring ramble, when only what is most
conspicuous and novel attracts the attention. Several pretty beetles, a
superb "bug," and a few nice land-shells were obtained, and I returned
in the afternoon well satisfied with my first trial of the promised
land.

The next two days were so wet and windy that there was no going out; but
on the succeeding one the sun shone brightly, and I had the good fortune
to capture one of the most magnificent insects the world contains, the
great bird-winged butterfly, Ornithoptera Poseidon. I trembled with
excitement as I saw it coming majestically towards me, and could hardly
believe I had really succeeded in my stroke till I had taken it out
of the net and was gazing, lost in admiration, at the velvet black and
brilliant green of its wings, seven inches across, its bolder body, and
crimson breast. It is true I had seen similar insects in cabinets at
home, but it is quite another thing to capture such oneself-to feel it
struggling between one's fingers, and to gaze upon its fresh and living
beauty, a bright gem shirring out amid the silent gloom of a dark and
tangled forest. The village of Dobbo held that evening at least one
contented man.

Jan. 26th.--Having now been here a fortnight, I began to understand a
little of the place and its peculiarities. Praus continually arrived,
and the merchant population increased almost daily. Every two or three
days a fresh house was opened, and the necessary repairs made. In every
direction men were bringing in poles, bamboos, rattans, and the leaves
of the nipa palm to construct or repair the walls, thatch, doors, and
shutters of their houses, which they do with great celerity. Some of the
arrivals were Macassar men or Bugis, but more from the small island of
Goram, at the east end of Ceram, whose inhabitants are the petty traders
of the far East. Then the natives of Aru come in from the other side of
the islands (called here "blakang tana," or "back of the country") with
the produce they have collected during the preceding six months, and
which they now sell to the traders, to some of whom they are most likely
in debt.

Almost all, or I may safely say all, the new arrivals pay me a visit,
to see with their own eyes the unheard-of phenomenon of a person come to
stay at Dobbo who does not trade! They have their own ideas of the uses
that may possibly be made of stuffed birds, beetles, and shells which
are not the right shells--that is, "mother-of-pearl." They every day
bring me dead and broken shells, such as I can pick up by hundreds on
the beach, and seem quite puzzled and distressed when I decline them.
If, however, there are any snail shells among a lot, I take them, and
ask for more--a principle of selection so utterly unintelligible to
them, that they give it up in despair, or solve the problem by imputing
hidden medical virtue to those which they see me preserve so carefully.

These traders are all of the Malay race, or a mixture of which Malay is
the chef ingredient, with the exception of a few Chinese. The natives of
Aru, on the other hand, are, Papuans, with black or sooty brown skims,
woolly or frizzly hair, thick-ridged prominent noses, and rather slender
limbs. Most of them wear nothing but a waist-cloth, and a few of them
may be seen all day long wandering about the half-deserted streets of
Dobbo offering their little bit of merchandise for sale.

Living in a trader's house everything is brought to me as well as to
the rest,--bundles of smoked tripang, or "beche de mer," looking like
sausages which have been rolled in mud and then thrown up the chimney;
dried sharks' fins, mother-of-pearl shells, as well as birds of
Paradise, which, however, are so dirty and so badly preserved that I
have as yet found no specimens worth purchasing. When I hardly look at
the articles, and make no offer for them, they seem incredulous, and,
as if fearing they have misunderstood me, again offer them, and declare
what they want in return--knives, or tobacco, or sago, or handkerchiefs.
I then have to endeavour to explain, through any interpreter who may be
at hand, that neither tripang nor pearl oyster shells have any charms
for me, and that I even decline to speculate in tortoiseshell, but that
anything eatable I will buy--fish, or turtle, or vegetables of any sort.
Almost the only food, however, that we can obtain with any regularity,
are fish and cockles of very good quality, and to supply our daily
wants it is absolutely necessary to be always provided with four
articles--tobacco, knives, sago-cakes, and Dutch copper doits--because
when the particular thing asked for is not forthcoming, the fish pass
on to the next house, and we may go that day without a dinner. It
is curious to see the baskets and buckets used here. The cockles are
brought in large volute shells, probably the Cymbium ducale, while
gigantic helmet-shells, a species of Cassis, suspended by a rattan
handle, form the vessels in which fresh water is daily carried past my
door. It is painful to a naturalist to see these splendid shells with
their inner whorls ruthlessly broken away to fit them for their ignoble
use.

My collections, however, got on but slowly, owing to the unexpectedly
bad weather, violent winds with heavy showers having been so continuous
as only to give me four good collecting days out of the first sixteen I
spent here. Yet enough had been collected to show me that with time and
fine weather I might expect to do something good. From the natives I
obtained some very fine insects and a few pretty land-shells; and of
the small number of birds yet shot more than half were known New Guinea
species, and therefore certainly rare in European collections, while the
remainder were probably new. In one respect my hopes seemed doomed to
be disappointed. I had anticipated the pleasure of myself preparing fine
specimens of the Birds of Paradise, but I now learnt that they are all
at this season out of plumage, and that it is in September and October
that they have the long plumes of yellow silky feathers in full
perfection. As all the praus return in July, I should not be able to
spend that season in Aru without remaining another whole year, which
was out of the question. I was informed, however, that the small
red species, the "King Bird of Paradise," retains its plumage at all
seasons, and this I might therefore hope to get.

As I became familiar with the forest scenery of the island, I perceived
it to possess some characteristic features that distinguished it
from that of Borneo and Malacca, while, what is very singular and
interesting, it recalled to my mind the half-forgotten impressions of
the forests of Equatorial America. For example, the palms were much more
abundant than I had generally found them in the East, more generally
mingled with the other vegetation, more varied in form and aspect,
and presenting some of those lofty and majestic smooth-stemmed,
pinnate-leaved species which recall the Uauassu (Attalea speciosa) of
the Amazon, but which I had hitherto rarely met with in the Malayan
islands.

In animal life the immense number and variety of spiders and of lizards
were circumstances that recalled the prolific regions of south America,
more especially the abundance and varied colours of the little jumping
spiders which abound on flowers and foliage, and are often perfect gems
of beauty. The web-spinning species were also more numerous than I had
ever seen them, and were a great annoyance, stretching their nets
across the footpaths just about the height of my face; and the threads
composing these are so strong and glutinous as to require much trouble
to free oneself from them. Then their inhabitants, great yellow-spotted
monsters with bodies two inches long, and legs in proportion, are
not pleasant to o run one's nose against while pursuing some gorgeous
butterfly, or gazing aloft in search of some strange-voiced bird. I soon
found it necessary not only to brush away the web, but also to destroy
the spinner; for at first, having cleared the path one day, I found the
next morning that the industrious insects had spread their nets again in
the very same places.

The lizards were equally striking by their numbers, variety, and the
situations in which they were found. The beautiful blue-tailed species
so abundant in Ke was not seen here. The Aru lizards are more varied
but more sombre in their colours--shades of green, grey, brown, and even
black, being very frequently seen. Every shrub and herbaceous plant was
alive with them, every rotten trunk or dead branch served as a station
for some of these active little insect-hunters, who, I fear, to satisfy
their gross appetites, destroy many gems of the insect world, which
would feast the eyes and delight the heart of our more discriminating
entomologists. Another curious feature of the jungle here was the
multitude of sea-shells everywhere met with on the ground and high up on
the branches and foliage, all inhabited by hermit-crabs, who forsake the
beach to wander in the forest. I lave actually seen a spider carrying
away a good-sized shell and devouring its (probably juvenile) tenant. On
the beach, which I had to walls along every morning to reach the forest,
these creatures swarmed by thousands. Every dead shell, from the largest
to the most minute, was appropriated by them. They formed small social
parties of ten or twenty around bits of stick or seaweed, but dispersed
hurriedly at the sound of approaching footsteps. After a windy night,
that nasty-looking Chinese delicacy the sea-slug was sometimes thrown
up on the beach, which was at such times thickly strewn with some of the
most beautiful shells that adorn our cabinets, along with fragments
and masses of coral and strange sponges, of which I picked up more than
twenty different sorts. In many cases sponge and coral are so much
alike that it is only on touching them that they can be distinguished.
Quantities of seaweed, too, are thrown up; but strange as it may seem,
these are far less beautiful and less varied than may be found on any
favourable part of our own coasts.

The natives here, even those who seem to be of pare Papuan race, were
much more reserved and taciturn than those of Ke. This is probably
because I only saw them as yet among strangers and in small parties,
One must see the savage at home to know what he really is. Even here,
however, the Papuan character sometimes breaks out. Little boys sing
cheerfully as they walk along, or talk aloud to themselves (quite a
negro characteristic); and try all they can, the men cannot conceal
their emotions in the true Malay fashion. A number of them were one day
in my house, and having a fancy to try what sort of eating tripang would
be, I bought a couple, paying for them with such an extravagant quantity
of tobacco that the seller saw I was a green customer. He could not,
however, conceal his delight, but as he smelt the fragrant weed, and
exhibited the large handful to his companions, he grinned and twisted
and gave silent chuckles in a most expressive pantomime. I had often
before made the same mistake in paying a Malay for some trifle. In no
case, however, was his pleasure visible on his countenance--a dull and
stupid hesitation only showing his surprise, which would be exhibited
exactly in the same way whether he was over or under paid. These little
moral traits are of the greatest interest when taken in connexion with
physical features. They do not admit of the same ready explanation by
external causes which is so frequently applied to the latter. Writers
on the races of mankind have too often to trust to the information of
travellers who pass rapidly from country to country, and thus have few
opportunities of becoming acquainted with peculiarities of national
character, or even of ascertaining what is really the average physical
conformation of the people. Such are exceedingly apt to be deceived
in places where two races have long, intermingled, by looking on
intermediate forms and mixed habits as evidences of a natural transition
from one race to the other, instead of an artificial mixture of two
distinct peoples; and they will be the more readily led into this error
if, as in the present case, writers on the subject should have been in
the habit of classing these races as mere varieties of one stock, as
closely related in physical conformation as from their geographical
proximity one might suppose they ought to be. So far as I have yet seen,
the Malay and Papuan appear to be as widely separated as any two human
races that exist, being distinguished by physical, mental, and moral
characteristics, all of the most marked and striking kind.

Feb 5th.--I took advantage of a very fine calm day to pay a visit to the
island of Wokan, which is about a mile from us, and forms part of the
"canna busar," or mainland of Aru. This is a large island, extending
from north to south about a hundred miles, but so low in many parts as
to be intersected by several creeks, which run completely through it,
offering a passage for good-sized vessels. On the west side, where we
are, there are only a few outlying islands, of which ours (Wamma) is
the principal; but on the east coast are a great number of islands,
extending some miles beyond the mainland, and forming the "blakang
tang," or "back country," of the traders, being the principal seat of
the pearl, tripang, and tortoiseshell fisheries. To the mainland many of
the birds and animals of the country are altogether confined; the
Birds of paradise, the black cockatoo, the great brush-turkey, and
the cassowary, are none of them found on Wamma or any of the detached
islands. I did not, however, expect in this excursion to see any decided
difference in the forest or its productions, and was therefore agreeably
surprised. The beach was overhung with the drooping branches of lame
trees, loaded with Orchideae, ferns, and other epiphytal plants. In the
forest there was more variety, some parts being dry, and with trees of
a lower growth, while in others there were some of the most beautiful
palms I have ever seen, with a perfectly straight, smooth, slender stem,
a hundred feet high, and a crown of handsome drooping leaves. But
the greatest novelty and most striking feature to my eyes were the
tree-ferns, which, after seven years spent in the tropics, I now saw in
perfection for the first time. All I had hitherto met with were slender
species, not more than twelve feet high, and they gave not the least
idea of the supreme beauty of trees bearing their elegant heads
of fronds more than thirty feet in the air, like those which were
plentifully scattered about this forest. There is nothing in tropical
vegetation so perfectly beautiful.

My boys shot five sorts of birds, none of which we had obtained during
a month's shooting in Wamma. Two were very pretty flycatchers, already
known from New Guinea; one of them (Monarcha chrysomela), of brilliant
black and bright orange colours, is by some authors considered to be the
most beautiful of all flycatchers; the other is pure white and velvety
black, with a broad fleshy ring round the eye of are azure blue colour;
it is named the "spectacled flycatcher" (Monarcha telescopthalma),
and was first found in New Guinea, along with the other, by the French
naturalists during the voyage of the discovery-ship Coquille.

Feb. 18th.--Before leaving Macassar, I had written to the Governor of
Amboyna requesting him to assist me with the native chiefs of Aru. I now
received by a vessel which had arrived from Amboyna a very polite answer
informing me that orders had been sent to give me every assistance that
I might require; and I was just congratulating myself on being at
length able to get a boat and men to go to the mainland and explore
the interior, when a sudden check came in the form of a piratical
incursion. A small prau arrived which had been attacked by pirates and
had a man wounded. They were said to have five boats, but more were
expected to be behind and the traders were all in consternation, fearing
that their small vessels sent trading to the "blakang tana" would be
plundered. The Aru natives were of course dreadfully alarmed, as these
marauders attack their villages, burn and murder, and carry away women
and children for slaves. Not a man will stir from his village for some
time, and I must remain still a prisoner in Dobbo. The Governor of
Amboyna, out of pure kindness, has told the chiefs that they are to be
responsible for my safety, so that they have au excellent excuse for
refusing to stir.

Several praus went out in search of the pirates, sentinels were
appointed, and watch-fires lighted on the beach to guard against the
possibility of a night attack, though it was hardly thought they would
be bold enough to attempt to plunder Dobbo. The next day the praus
returned, and we had positive information that these scourges of the
Eastern seas were really among us. One of Herr Warzbergen's small praus
also arrived in a sad plight. It had been attacked six days before, just
as it was returning, from the "blakang tana." The crew escaped in
their small boat and hid in the jungle, while the pirates came up
and plundered the vessel. They took away everything but the cargo of
mother-of-pearl shell, which was too bulky for them. All the clothes and
boxes of the men, and the sails and cordage of the prau, were cleared
off. They had four large war boats, and fired a volley of musketry as
they came up, and sent off their small boats to the attack. After they
had left, our men observed from their concealment that three had stayed
behind with a small boat; and being driven to desperation by the sight
of the plundering, one brave fellow swam off armed only with his parang,
or chopping-knife, and coming on them unawares made a desperate attack,
killing one and wounding the other two, receiving himself numbers of
slight wounds, and then swimming off again when almost exhausted. Two
other prams were also plundered, and the crew of one of them murdered to
a man. They are said to be Sooloo pirates, but have Bugis among them.
On their way here they have devastated one of the small islands east of
Ceram. It is now eleven years since they have visited Aru, and by thus
making their attacks at long and uncertain intervals the alarm
dies away, and they find a population for the most part unarmed and
unsuspicious of danger. None of the small trading vessels now carry
arms, though they did so for a year or two after the last attack, which
was just the time when there was the least occasion for it. A week later
one of the smaller pirate boats was captured in the "blakang tana."
Seven men were killed and three taken prisoners. The larger vessels have
been often seen but cannot be caught, as they have very strong crews,
and can always escape by rowing out to sea in the eye of the wind,
returning at night. They will thus remain among the innumerable islands
and channels, till the change of the monsoon enables them to sail
westward.

March 9th.-For four or five days we have had a continual gale of wind,
with occasional gusts of great fury, which seem as if they would send
Dobbo into the sea. Rain accompanies it almost every alternate hour, so
that it is not a pleasant time. During such weather I can do little, but
am busy getting ready a boat I have purchased, for an excursion into
the interior. There is immense difficulty about men, but I believe the
"Orang-kaya," or head man of Wamma, will accompany me to see that I
don't run into danger.

Having become quite an old inhabitant of Dobbo, I will endeavour to
sketch the sights and sounds that pervade it, and the manners and
customs of its inhabitants. The place is now pretty full, and the
streets present a far more cheerful aspect than when we first arrived.
Every house is a store, where the natives barter their produce for
what they are most in need of. Knives, choppers, swords, guns, tobacco,
gambier, plates, basins, handkerchiefs, sarongs, calicoes, and arrack,
are the principal articles wanted by the natives; but some of the stores
contain also tea, coffee, sugar, wine, biscuits, &c., for the supply
of the traders; and others are full of fancy goods, china ornaments,
looking-glasses, razors, umbrellas, pipes, and purses, which take the
fancy of the wealthier natives. Every fine day mats are spread before
the doors and the tripang is put out to dry, as well as sugar,
salt, biscuit, tea, cloths, and other things that get injured by
an excessively moist atmosphere. In the morning and evening, spruce
Chinamen stroll about or chat at each other's doors, in blue trousers,
white jacket, and a queue into which red silk is plaited till it reaches
almost to their heels. An old Bugis hadji regularly takes an evening
stroll in all the dignity of flowing green silk robe and gay turban,
followed by two small boys carrying his sirih and betel boxes.

In every vacant space new houses are being built, and all sorts of odd
little cooking-sheds are erected against the old ones, while in some
out-of-the-way corners, massive log pigsties are tenanted by growing
porkers; for how can the Chinamen exist six months without one feast of
pig?

Here and there are stalls where bananas are sold, and every morning
two little boys go about with trays of sweet rice and crated cocoa-nut,
fried fish, or fried plantains; and whichever it may be, they have
but one cry, and that is "Chocolat-t--t!" This must be a Spanish or
Portuguese cry, handed down for centuries, while its meaning has been
lost. The Bugis sailors, while hoisting the main sail, cry out, "Vela a
vela,--vela, vela, vela!" repeated in an everlasting chorus. As "vela"
is Portuguese a sail, I supposed I had discovered the origin of this,
but I found afterwards they used the same cry when heaving anchor, and
often chanted it to "hela," which is so much an universal expression
of exertion and hard breathing that it is most probably a mere
interjectional cry.

I daresay there are now near five hundred people in Dobbo of various
races, all met in this remote corner of the East, as they express it,
"to look for their fortune;" to get money any way they can. They are
most of them people who have the very worst reputation for honesty as
well as every other form of morality,--Chinese, Bugis, Ceramese, and
half-caste Javanese, with a sprinkling of half-wild Papuans from Timor,
Babber, and other islands, yet all goes on as yet very quietly. This
motley, ignorant, bloodthirsty, thievish population live here without
the shadow of a government, with no police, no courts, and no lawyers;
yet they do not cut each other's throats, do not plunder each other day
and night, do not fall into the anarchy such a state of things might be
supposed to lead to. It is very extraordinary! It puts strange thoughts
into one's head about the mountain-load of government under which people
exist in Europe, and suggests the idea that we may be over-governed.
Think of the hundred Acts of Parliament annually enacted to prevent us,
the people of England, from cutting each other's throats, or from doing
to our neighbour as we would not be done by. Think of the thousands of
lawyers and barristers whose whole lives are spent in telling us what
the hundred Acts of Parliament mean, and one would be led to infer that
if Dobbo has too little law England has too much.

Here we may behold in its simplest form the genius of Commerce at the
work of Civilization. Trade is the magic that keeps all at peace, and
unites these discordant elements into a well-behaved community. All
are traders, and know that peace and order are essential to successful
trade, and thus a public opinion is created which puts down all
lawlessness. Often in former year, when strolling along the Campong Glam
in Singapore, I have thought how wild and ferocious the Bugis sailors
looked, and how little should like to trust myself among them. But now I
find them to be very decent, well-behaved fellows; I walk daily unarmed
in the jungle, where I meet them continually; I sleep in a palm-leaf
hut, which any one may enter, with as little fear and as little
danger of thieves or murder as if I were under the protection of the
Metropolitan police. It is true the Dutch influence is felt here. The
islands are nominally under the government of the Moluccas, which the
native chiefs acknowledge; and in most years a commissioner arrives from
Amboyna, who makes the tour of the islands, hears complaints, settle
disputes, and carries away prisoner any heinous offender. This year he
is not expected to come, as no orders have yet been received to prepare
for him; so the people of Dobbo will probably be left to their own
devices. One day a man was caught in the act of stealing a piece of
iron from Herr Warzbergen's house, which he had entered by making a hole
through the thatch wall. In the evening the chief traders of the place,
Bugis and Chinese, assembled, the offender was tried and found guilty,
and sentenced to receive twenty lashes on the spot. They were given
with a small rattan in the middle of the street, not very severely,
the executioner appeared to sympathise a little with the culprit. The
disgrace seemed to be thought as much of as the pain; for though any
amount of clever cheating is thought rather meritorious than otherwise,
open robbery and housebreaking meet with universal reprobation.



CHAPTER XXXI. THE ARU ISLANDS.--JOURNEY AND RESIDENCE IN THE INTERIOR.

(MARCH TO MAY 1857.)

MY boat was at length ready, and having obtained two men besides my own
servants, after an enormous amount of talk and trouble, we left Dobbo on
the morning of March 13th, for the mainland of Aru. By noon we reached
the mouth of a small river or creek, which we ascended, winding among
mangrove, swamps, with here and there a glimpse of dry land. In two
hours we reached a house, or rather small shed, of the most miserable
description, which our steersman, the "Orang-kaya" of Wamma, said was
the place we were to stay at, and where he had assured me we could get
every kind of bird and beast to be found in Aru. The shed was occupied
by about a dozen men, women, and children; two cooking fires were
burning in it, and there seemed little prospect of my obtaining
any accommodation. I however deferred inquiry till I had seen the
neighbouring forest, and immediately started off with two men, net, and
guns, along a path at the back of the house. In an hour's walk I saw
enough to make me determine to give the place a trial, and on my return,
finding the "Orang-kaya" was in a strong fever-fit and unable to do
anything, I entered into negotiations with the owner of the house for
the use of a slip at one end of it about five feet wide, for a week,
and agreed to pay as rent one "parang," or chopping-knife. I then
immediately got my boxes and bedding out of the boat, hung up a shelf
for my bird-skins and insects, and got all ready for work next morning.
My own boys slept in the boat to guard the remainder of my property; a
cooking place sheltered by a few mats was arranged under a tree close
by, and I felt that degree of satisfaction and enjoyment which I always
experience when, after much trouble and delay, I am on the point of
beginning work in a new locality.

One of my first objects was to inquire for the people who are accustomed
to shoot the Paradise birds. They lived at some distance in the jungle,
and a man was sent to call them. When they arrived, we had a talk by
means of the "Orang-kaya" as interpreter, and they said they thought
they could get some. They explained that they shoot the birds with a bow
and arrow, the arrow having a conical wooden cap fitted to the end as
large as a teacup, so as to kill the bird by the violence of the blow
without making any wound or shedding any blood. The trees frequented
by the birds are very lofty; it is therefore necessary to erect a small
leafy covering or hut among the branches, to which the hunter mounts
before daylight in the morning and remains the whole day, and whenever
a bird alights they are almost sure of securing it. (See Frontispiece.)
They returned to their homes the same evening, and I never saw anything
more of them, owing, as I afterwards found, to its being too early to
obtain birds in good plumage.

The first two or three days of our stay here were very wet, and I
obtained but few insects or birds, but at length, when I was beginning
to despair, my boy Baderoon returned one day with a specimen which
repaid me for months of delay and expectation. It was a small bird a
little less than a thrush. The greater part of its plumage was of an
intense cinnabar red, with a gloss as of spun glass. On the head the
feathers became short and velvety, and shaded into rich orange. Beneath,
from the breast downwards, was pure white, with the softness and gloss
of silk, and across the breast a band of deep metallic green separated
this colour from the red of the throat. Above each eye was a round spot
of the same metallic green; the bill was yellow, and the feet and legs
were of a fine cobalt óille, strikingly contrasting with all the other
parts of the body. Merely in arrangement of colours and texture of
plumage this little bird was a gem of the first water, yet there
comprised only half its strange beauty. Springing from each side of
the breast, and ordinarily lying concealed under the wings, were little
tufts of greyish feathers about two inches long, and each terminated by
a broad band of intense emerald green. These plumes can be raised at the
will of the bird, and spread out into a pair of elegant fans when the
wings are elevated. But this is not the only ornament. The two middle
feathers of the tail are in the form of slender wires about five inches
long, and which diverge in a beautiful double curve. About half an inch
of the end of this wire is webbed on the outer side only, awe coloured
of a fine metallic green, and being curled spirally inwards form a pair
of elegant glittering buttons, hanging five inches below the body, and
the same distance apart. These two ornaments, the breast fans and the
spiral tipped tail wires, are altogether unique, not occurring on any
other species of the eight thousand different birds that are known to
exist upon the earth; and, combined with the most exquisite beauty of
plumage, render this one of the most perfectly lovely of the many lovely
productions of nature. My transports of admiration and delight quite
amused my Aru hosts, who saw nothing more in the "Burong raja" than we
do in the robin of the goldfinch.

Thus one of my objects in coming to the far fast was accomplished. I
had obtained a specimen of the King Bird of Paradise (Paradisea regia),
which had been described by Linnaeus from skins preserved in a mutilated
state by the natives. I knew how few Europeans had ever beheld the
perfect little organism I now gazed upon, and how very imperfectly
it was still known in Europe. The emotions excited in the minds of a
naturalist, who has long desired to see the actual thing which he has
hitherto known only by description, drawing, or badly-preserved external
covering--especially when that thing is of surpassing rarity and beauty,
require the poetic faculty fully to express them. The remote island in
which I found myself situated, in an almost unvisited sea, far from
the tracks of merchant fleets and navies; the wild luxuriant tropical
forest, which stretched far away on every side; the rude uncultured
savages who gathered round me,--all had their influence in determining
the emotions with which I gazed upon this "thing of beauty." I thought
of the long ages of the past, during which the successive generations of
this little creature had run their course--year by year being born, and
living and dying amid these dark and gloomy woods, with no intelligent
eye to gaze upon their loveliness; to all appearance such a wanton waste
of beauty. Such ideas excite a feeling of melancholy. It seems sad, that
on the one hand such exquisite creatures should live out their lives and
exhibit their charms only in these wild inhospitable regions, doomed for
ages yet to come to hopeless barbarism; while on the other hand,
should civilized man ever reach these distant lands, and bring moral,
intellectual, and physical light into the recesses of these virgin
forests, we may be sure that he will so disturb the nicely-balanced
relations of organic and inorganic nature as to cause the disappearance,
and finally the extinction, of these very beings whose wonderful
structure and beauty he alone is fitted to appreciate and enjoy. This
consideration must surely tell us that all living things were _not_
made for man. Many of them have no relation to him. The cycle of their
existence has gone on independently of his, and is disturbed or broken
by every advance in man's intellectual development; and their happiness
and enjoyment, their loves and hates, their struggles for existence,
their vigorous life and early death, would seem to be immediately
related to their own well-being and perpetuation alone, limited only by
the equal well-being and perpetuation of the numberless other organisms
with which each is more or less intimately connected.

After the first king-bird was obtained, I went with my men into the
forest, and we were not only rewarded with another in equally perfect
plumage, but I was enabled to see a little of the habits of both it
and the larger species. It frequents the lower trees of the less dense
forests: and is very active, flying strongly with a whirring sound,
and continually hopping or flying from branch to branch. It eats hard
stone-bearing fruits as large as a gooseberry, and often flutters its
wings after the manner of the South American manakins, at which time
it elevates and expands the beautiful fans with which its breast is
adorned. The natives of Aru call it "Goby-goby."

One day I get under a tree where a number of the Great Paradise birds
were assembled, but they were high up in the thickest of the foliage,
and flying and jumping about so continually that I could get no good
view of them. At length I shot one, but it was a young specimen, and was
entirely of a rich chocolate-brown colour, without either the metallic
green throat or yellow plumes of the full-grown bird. All that I had yet
seen resembled this, and the natives told me that it would be about
two months before any would be found in full plumage. I still hoped,
therefore, to get some. Their voice is most extraordinary. At early
morn, before the sun has risen, we hear a loud cry of "Wawk-wawk-wawk,
wók-wók-wók," which resounds through the forest, changing its direction
continually. This is the Great Bird of Paradise going to seek his
breakfast. Others soon follow his example; lories and parroquets cry
shrilly, cockatoos scream, king-hunters croak and bark, and the various
smaller birds chirp and whistle their morning song. As I lie listening
to these interesting sounds, I realize my position as the first European
who has ever lived for months together in the Aru islands, a place which
I had hoped rather than expected ever to visit. I think how many besides
my self have longed to reach these almost fairy realms, and to see with
their own eyes the many wonderful and beautiful things which I am daily
encountering. But now Ali and Baderoon are up and getting ready their
guns and ammunition, and little Brio has his fire lighted and is boiling
my coffee, and I remember that I had a black cockatoo brought in late
last night, which I must skin immediately, and so I jump up and begin my
day's work very happily.

This cockatoo is the first I have seen, and is a great prize. It has
a rather small and weak body, long weak legs, large wings, and an
enormously developed head, ornamented with a magnificent crest, and
armed with a sharp-pointed hoofed bill of immense size and strength. The
plumage is entirely black, but has all over it the curious powdery white
secretion characteristic of cockatoo. The cheeks are bare, and of an
intense blood-red colour. Instead of the harsh scream of the white
cockatoos, its voice is a somewhat plaintive whistle. The tongue is a
curious organ, being a slender fleshy cylinder of a deep red colour,
terminated by a horny black plate, furrowed across and somewhat
prehensile. The whole tongue has a considerable extensile power. I will
here relate something of the habits of this bird, with which I have
since become acquainted. It frequents the lower parts of the forest, and
is seen singly, or at most two or three together. It flies slowly and
noiselessly, and may be killed by a comparatively slight wound. It eats
various fruits and seeds, but seems more particularly attached to the
kernel of the kanary-nut, which grows on a lofty forest tree (Canarium
commune), abundant in the islands where this bird is found; and the
manner in which it gets at these seeds shows a correlation of structure
and habits, which would point out the "kanary" as its special food. The
shell of this nut is so excessively hard that only a heavy hammer will
crack it; it is somewhat triangular, and the outside is quite smooth.
The manner in which the bird opens these nuts is very curious. Taking
one endways in its bill and keeping it firm by a pressure of the tongue,
it cuts a transverse notch by a lateral sawing motion of the sharp-edged
lower mandible. This done, it takes hold of the nut with its foot, and
biting off a piece of leaf retains it in the deep notch of the upper
mandible, and again seizing the nut, which is prevented from slipping by
the elastic tissue of the leaf, fixes the edge of the lower mandible in
the notch, and by a powerful nip breaks of a piece of the shell, again
taking the nut in its claws, it inserts the very long and sharp point
of the bill and picks out the kernel, which is seized hold of, morsel
by morsel, by the extensible tongue. Thus every detail of form and
structure in the extraordinary bill of this bird seems to have its use,
and we may easily conceive that the black cockatoos have maintained
themselves in competition with their more active and more numerous white
allies, by their power of existing on a kind of food which no other bird
is able to extract from its stony shell. The species is the Microglossum
aterrimum of naturalists.

During the two weeks which I spent in this little settlement, I had good
opportunities of observing the natives at their own home, and living in
their usual manner. There is a great monotony and uniformity in everyday
savage life, and it seemed to me a more miserable existence than when it
had the charm of novelty. To begin with the most important fact in
the existence of uncivilized peoples--their food--the Aru men have no
regular supply, no staff of life, such as bread, rice, mandiocca, maize,
or sago, which are the daily food of a large proportion of mankind.
They have, however, many sorts of vegetables, plantains, yams, sweet
potatoes, and raw sago; and they chew up vast quantities of sugar-cane,
as well as betel-nuts, gambir, and tobacco. Those who live on the coast
have plenty of fish; but when inland, as we are here, they only go to
the sea occasionally, and then bring home cockles and other shell-fish
by the boatload. Now and then they get wild pig or kangaroo, but too
rarely to form anything like a regular part of their diet, which is
essentially vegetable; and what is of more importance, as affecting
their health, green, watery vegetables, imperfectly cooked, and even
these in varying and often in sufficient quantities. To this diet may be
attributed the prevalence of skin diseases, and ulcers on the legs and
joints. The scurfy skin disease so common among savages has a close
connexion with the poorness and irregularity of their living. The
Malays, who are never without their daily rice, are generally free from
it; the hill-Dyaks of Borneo, who grow rice and live well, are clean
skinned while the less industrious and less cleanly tribes, who live for
a portion of the year on fruits and vegetables only, are very subject to
this malady. It seems clear that in this, as in other respects, man
is not able to make a beast of himself with impunity, feeding like the
cattle on the herbs and fruits of the earth, and taking no thought of
the morrow. To maintain his health and beauty he must labour to prepare
some farinaceous product capable of being stored and accumulated, so as
to give him a regular supply of wholesome food. When this is obtained,
he may add vegetables, fruits, and meat with advantage.

The chief luxury of the Aru people, besides betel and tobacco, is arrack
(Java rum), which the traders bring in great quantities and sell very
cheap. A day's fishing or rattan cutting will purchase at least a
half-gallon bottle; and when the tripang or birds' nests collected
during a season are sold, they get whole boxes, each containing fifteen
such bottles, which the inmates of a house will sit round day and night
till they have finished. They themselves tell me that at such bouts they
often tear to pieces the house they are in, break and destroy everything
they can lay their hands on, and make such an infernal riot as is
alarming to behold.

The houses and furniture are on a par with the food. A rude shed,
supported on rough and slender sticks rather than posts, no walls,
but the floor raised to within a foot of the eaves, is the style of
architecture they usually adopt. Inside there are partition walls of
thatch, forming little boxes or sleeping places, to accommodate the
two or three separate families that usually live together. A few mats,
baskets, and cooking vessels, with plates and basins purchased from the
Macassar traders, constitute their whole furniture; spears and bows
are their weapons; a sarong or mat forms the clothing of the women, a
waistcloth of the men. For hours or even for days they sit idle in their
houses, the women bringing in the vegetables or sago which form their
food. Sometimes they hunt or fish a little, or work at their houses or
canoes, but they seem to enjoy pure idleness, and work as little as they
can. They have little to vary the monotony of life, little that can be
called pleasure, except idleness and conversation. And they certainly
do talk! Every evening there is a little Babel around me: but as I
understand not a word of it, I go on with my book or work undisturbed.
Now and then they scream and shout, or laugh frantically for variety;
and this goes on alternately with vociferous talking of men, women, and
children, till long after I am in my mosquito curtain and sound asleep.

At this place I obtained some light on the complicated mixture of
races in Aru, which would utterly confound an ethnologist. Many of the
natives, though equally dark with the others, have little of the Papuan
physiognomy, but have more delicate features of the European type, with
more glossy, curling hair: These at first quite puzzled me, for they
have no more resemblance to Malay than to Papuan, and the darkness of
skin and hair would forbid the idea of Dutch intermixture. Listening to
their conversation, however, I detected some words that were familiar
to me. "Accabó" was one; and to be sure that it was not an accidental
resemblance, I asked the speaker in Malay what "accabó" meant, and
was told it meant "done or finished," a true Portuguese word, with its
meaning retained. Again, I heard the word "jafui" often repeated, and
could see, without inquiry, that its meaning was "he's gone," as in
Portuguese. "Porco," too, seems a common name, though the people have no
idea of its European meaning. This cleared up the difficulty. I at once
understood that some early Portuguese traders had penetrated to these
islands, and mixed with the natives, influencing their language,
and leaving in their descendants for many generations the visible
characteristics of their race. If to this we add the occasional mixture
of Malay, Dutch, and Chinese with the indigenous Papuans, we have
no reason to wonder at the curious varieties of form and feature
occasionally to be met with in Aru. In this very house there was a
Macassar man, with an Aru wife and a family of mixed children. In Dobbo
I saw a Javanese and an Amboyna man, each with an Aru wife and family;
and as this kind of mixture has been going on for at least three hundred
years, and probably much longer, it has produced a decided effect on the
physical characteristics of a considerable portion of the population of
the islands, more especially in Dobbo and the parts nearest to it.

March 28th.--The "Orang-kaya" being very ill with fever had begged to go
home, and had arranged with one of the men of the house to go on with me
as his substitute. Now that I wanted to move, the bugbear of the pirates
was brought up, and it was pronounced unsafe to go further than the next
small river. This world not suit me, as I had determined to traverse the
channel called Watelai to the "blakang-tana;" but my guide was firm
in his dread of pirates, of which I knew there was now no danger, as
several vessels had gone in search of them, as well as a Dutch gunboat
which had arrived since I left Dobbo. I had, fortunately, by this time
heard that the Dutch "Commissie" had really arrived, and therefore
threatened that if my guide did not go with me immediately, I would
appeal to the authorities, and he would certainly be obliged to gig
a back the cloth which the "Orang-kaya" had transferred to him in
prepayment. This had the desired effect; matters were soon arranged, and
we started the next morning. The wind, however, was dead against us,
and after rowing hard till midday we put in to a small river where
there were few huts, to cook our dinners. The place did not look very
promising, but as we could not reach our destination, the Watelai river,
owing to the contrary wind, I thought we might as well wait here a day
or two. I therefore paid a chopper for the use of a small shed, and
got my bed and some boxes on shore. In the evening, after dark, we were
suddenly alarmed by the cry of "Bajak! bajak!" (Pirates!) The men all
seized their bows and spears, and rushed down to the beach; we got hold
of our guns and prepared for action, but in a few minutes all came back
laughing and chattering, for it had proved to be only a small boat and
some of their own comrades returned from fishing. When all was quiet
again, one of the men, who could speak a little Malay, came to me and
begged me not to sleep too hard. "Why?" said I. "Perhaps the pirates may
really come," said he very seriously, which made me laugh and assure him
I should sleep as hard as I could.

Two days were spent here, but the place was unproductive of insects or
birds of interest, so we made another attempt to get on. As soon as we
got a little away from the land we had a fair wind, and in six hours'
sailing reached the entrance of the Watelai channel, which divides the
most northerly from the middle portion of Aru. At its mouth this was
about half a mile wide, but soon narrowed, and a mile or two on it
assumed entirely the aspect of a river about the width of the Thames at
London, winding among low but undulating and often hilly country.
The scene was exactly such as might be expected in the interior of
a continent. The channel continued of a uniform average width, with
reaches and sinuous bends, one bank being often precipitous, or even
forming vertical cliffs, while the other was flat and apparently
alluvial; and it was only the pure salt-water, and the absence of any
stream but the slight flux and reflux of the tide, that would enable a
person to tell that he was navigating a strait and not a river. The
wind was fair, and carried us along, with occasional assistance from our
oars, till about three in the afternoon, when we landed where a little
brook formed two or three basins in the coral rock, and then fell in a
miniature cascade into the salt water river. Here we bathed and cooked
our dinner, and enjoyed ourselves lazily till sunset, when we pursued
our way for two hours snore, and then moored our little vessel to an
overhanging tree for the night.

At five the next morning we started again, and in an hour overtook four
large praus containing the "Commissie," who had come from Dobbo to make
their official tour round the islands, and had passed us in the eight. I
paid a visit to the Dutchmen, one of whom spoke a little English, but
we found that we could get on much better with Malay. They told me that
they had been delayed going after the pirates to one of the northern
islands, and had seen three of their vessels but could not catch them,
because on being pursued they rowed out in the wind's eye, which they
are enabled to do by having about fifty oars to each boat. Having had
some tea with thorn, I bade them adieu, and turned up a narrow channel
which our pilot said would take us to the village of Watelai, on the
west side of Are. After going some miles we found the channel nearly
blocked up with coral, so that our boat grated along the bottom,
crunching what may truly be called the living rock. Sometimes all hands
had to get out and wade, to lighten the vessel and lift it over the
shallowest places; but at length we overcame all obstacles and reached a
wide bay or estuary studded with little rocks and islets, and opening
to the western sea and the numerous islands of the "blakang-tuna." I now
found that the village we were going to was miles away; that we should
have to go out to sea, and round a rocky point. A squall seemed coming
on, and as I have a horror of small boats at sea, and from all I could
learn Watelai village was not a place to stop at (no birds of Paradise
being found there), I determined to return and go to a village I had
heard of up a tributary of the Watelai river, and situated nearly in the
centre of the mainland of Aru. The people there were said to be good,
and to be accustomed to hunting and bird-catching, being too far inland
to get any part of their food from the sea. While I was deciding this
point the squall burst upon us, and soon raised a rolling sea in the
shallow water, which upset an oil bottle and a lamp, broke some of my
crockery, and threw us all into confusion. Rowing hard we managed to get
back into the main river by dusk, and looked out for a place to cook
our suppers. It happened to be high water, and a very high tide, so that
every piece of sand or beach was covered, and it was with the greatest
difficulty, and after much groping in the dark, that we discovered a
little sloping piece of rock about two feet square on which to make a
fire and cook some rice. The next day we continued our way back, and
on the following day entered a stream on the south side of the Watelai
river, and ascending to where navigation ceased found the little village
of Wanumbai, consisting of two large houses surrounded by plantations,
amid the virgin forests of Aru.

As I liked the look of the place, and was desirous of staying some time,
I sent my pilot to try and make a bargain for house accommodation. The
owner and chief man of the place made many excuses. First, he was afraid
I would not like his house, and then was doubtful whether his son,
who was away, would like his admitting me. I had a long talk with him
myself, and tried to explain what I was doing, and how many things I
would buy of them, and showed him my stock of heads, and knives, and
cloth, and tobacco, all of which I would spend with his family and
friends if he would give me house-room. He seemed a little staggered at
this, and said he, would talk to his wife, and in the meantime I went
for a little walk to see the neighbourhood. When I came back, I again
sent my pilot, saying that I would go away if he would not dive me part
of his house. In about half an hour he returned with a demand for about
half the cost of building a house, for the rent of a small portion of it
for a few weeks. As the only difficulty now was a pecuniary one, I got
out about ten yards of cloth, an axe, with a few beads and some tobacco,
and sent them as my final offer for the part of the house which I had
before pointed out. This was accepted after a little more talk, and I
immediately proceeded to take possession.

The house was a good large one, raised as usual about seven feet on
posts, the walls about three or four feet more, with a high-pitched
roof. The floor was of bamboo laths, and in the sloping roof way an
immense shutter, which could be lifted and propped up to admit light
and air. At the end where this was situated the floor was raised about a
foot, and this piece, about ten feet wide by twenty long, quite open to
the rest of the house, was the portion I was to occupy. At one end of
this piece, separated by a thatch partition, was a cooking place, with
a clay floor and shelves for crockery. At the opposite end I had my
mosquito curtain hung, and round the walls we arranged my boxes and
other stores, fated up a table and seat, and with a little cleaning and
dusting made the place look quite comfortable. My boat was then hauled
up on shore, and covered with palm-leaves, the sails and oars brought
indoors, a hanging-stage for drying my specimens erected outside the
house and another inside, and my boys were set to clean their gnus and
get all ready for beginning work.

The next day I occupied myself in exploring the paths in the immediate
neighbourhood. The small river up which we had ascended ceases to be
navigable at this point, above which it is a little rocky brook, which
quite dries up in the hot season. There was now, however, a fair stream
of water in it; and a path which was partly in and partly by the side of
the water, promised well for insects, as I here saw the magnificent
blue butterfly, Papilio ulysses, as well as several other fine species,
flopping lazily along, sometimes resting high up on the foliage which
drooped over the water, at others settling down on the damp rock or on
the edges of muddy pools. A little way on several paths branched off
through patches of second-growth forest to cane-fields, gardens, and
scattered houses, beyond which again the dark wall of verdure striped
with tree-trunks, marked out the limits of the primeval forests. The
voices of many birds promised good shooting, and on my return I found
that my boys had already obtained two or three kinds I had not seen
before; and in the evening a native brought me a rare and beautiful
species of ground-thrush (Pitta novaeguinaeae) hitherto only known from
New Guinea.

As I improved my acquaintance with them I became much interested in
these people, who are a fair sample of the true savage inhabitants of
the Aru Islands, tolerably free from foreign admixture. The house I
lived in contained four or five families, and there were generally
from six to a dozen visitors besides. They kept up a continual row
from morning till night--talking, laughing, shouting, without
intermission--not very pleasant, but interesting as a study of national
character. My boy Ali said to me, "Banyak quot bitchara Orang Aru" (The
Aru people are very strong talkers), never having been accustomed to
such eloquence either in his own or any other country he had hitherto
visited. Of an evening the men, having got over their first shyness,
began to talk to me a little, asking about my country, &c., and in
return I questioned them about any traditions they had of their own
origin. I had, however, very little success, for I could not possibly
make them understand the simple question of where the Aru people first
came from. I put it in every possible way to them, but it was a subject
quite beyond their speculations; they had evidently never thought of
anything of the kind, and were unable to conceive a thing so remote and
so unnecessary to be thought about, as their own origin. Finding this
hopeless, I asked if they knew when the trade with Aru first began, when
the Bugis and Chinese and Macassar men first came in their praus to buy
tripang and tortoise-shell, and birds' nests, and Paradise birds?

This they comprehended, but replied that there had always been the same
trade as long as they or their fathers recollected, but that this was
the first time a real white man had come among them, and, said they,
"You see how the people come every day from all the villages round to
look at you." This was very flattering, and accounted for the great
concourse of visitors which I had at first imagined was accidental. A
few years before I had been one of the gazers at the Zoolus, and the
Aztecs in London. Now the tables were turned upon me, for I was to these
people a new and strange variety of man, and had the honour of affording
to them, in my own person, an attractive exhibition, gratis.

All the men and boys of Aru are expert archers, never stirring without
their bows and arrows. They shoot all sorts of birds, as well as pigs
and kangaroos occasionally, and thus have a tolerably good supply of
meat to eat with their vegetables. The result of this better living is
superior healthiness, well-made bodies, and generally clear skins. They
brought me numbers of small birds in exchange for beads or tobacco, but
mauled them terribly, notwithstanding my repeated instructions. When
they got a bird alive they would often tie a string to its leg, and keep
it a day or two, till its plumage was so draggled and dirtied as to be
almost worthless. One of the first things I got from there was a living
specimen of the curious and beautiful racquet-tailed kingfisher. Seeing
how much I admired it, they afterwards brought me several more, which
wore all caught before daybreak, sleeping in cavities of the rocky banks
of the stream. My hunters also shot a few specimens, and almost all
of them had the red bill more or less clogged with mud and earth. This
indicates the habits of the bird, which, though popularly a king-fisher,
never catches fish, but lives on insects and minute shells, which it
picks up in the forest, darting down upon them from its perch on some
low branch. The genus Tanysiptera, to which this bird belongs, is
remarkable for the enormously lengthened tail, which in all other
kingfishers is small and short. Linnaeus named the species known to
him "the goddess kingfisher" (Alcedo dea), from its extreme grace and
beauty, the plumage being brilliant blue and white, with the bill red,
like coral. Several species of these interesting birds are now known,
all confined within the very limited area which comprises the Moluccas,
New Guinea, and the extreme North of Australia. They resemble each other
so closely that several of them can only be distinguished by careful
comparison. One of the rarest, however, which inhabits New Guinea, is
very distinct from the rest, being bright red beneath instead of white.
That which I now obtained was a new one, and has been named Tanysiptera
hydrocharis, but in general form and coloration it is exactly similar to
the larger species found in Amboyna, and figured at page 468 of my first
volume.

New and interesting birds were continually brought in, either by my own
boys or by the natives, and at the end of a week Ali arrived triumphant
one afternoon with a fine specimen of the Great Bird of Paradise.
The ornamental plumes had not yet attained their full growth, but the
richness of their glossy orange colouring, and the exquisite delicacy
of the loosely waving feathers, were unsurpassable. At the same time a
great black cockatoo was brought in, as well as a fine fruit-pigeon and
several small birds, so that we were all kept hard at work skinning
till sunset. Just as we had cleared away and packed up for the night,
a strange beast was brought, which had been shot by the natives. It
resembled in size, and in its white woolly covering, a small fat
lamb, but had short legs, hand-like feet with large claws, and a long
prehensile tail. It was a Cuscus (C. maculatus), one of the curious
marsupial animals of the Papuan region, and I was very desirous to
obtain the skin. The owners, however, said they wanted to eat it; and
though I offered them a good price, and promised to give them all the
meat, there was grout hesitation. Suspecting the reason, I offered,
though it was night, to set to work immediately and get out the body for
them, to which they agreed. The creature was much hacked about, and the
two hind feet almost cut off; but it was the largest and finest specimen
of the kind I had seen; and after an hour's hard work I handed over the
body to the owners, who immediately cut it up and roasted it for supper.

As this was a very good place for birds, I determined to remain a month
longer, and took the opportunity of a native boat going to Dobbo, to
send Ali for a fresh supply of ammunition and provisions. They started
on the 10th of April, and the house was crowded with about a hundred
men, boys, women, and girls, bringing their loads of sugar-cane,
plantains, sirih-leaf, yams, &c.; one lad going from each house to sell
the produce and make purchases. The noise was indescribable. At least
fifty of the hundred were always talking at once, and that not in the
low measured tones of the apathetically polite Malay, but with loud
voices, shouts, and screaming laughter, in which the women and children
were even more conspicuous than the men. It was only while gazing at me
that their tongues were moderately quiet, because their eyes were fully
occupied. The black vegetable soil here overlying the coral rock is very
rich, and the sugar-cane was finer than any I had ever seen. The canes
brought to the boat were often ten and even twelve feet long, and thick
in proportion, with short joints throughout, swelling between the knots
with the abundance of the rich juice. At Dobbo they get a high price
for it, 1d. to 3d. a stick, and there is an insatiable demand among the
crews of the praus and the Baba fishermen. Here they eat it continually.
They half live on it, and sometimes feed their pigs with it. Near every
house are great heaps of the refuse cane; and large wicker-baskets
to contain this refuse as it is produced form a regular part of the
furniture of a house. Whatever time of the day you enter, you are sure
to find three or four people with a yard of cane in one hand, a knife
in the other, and a basket between their legs, hacking, paring, chewing,
and basket-filling, with a persevering assiduity which reminds one of a
hungry cow grazing, or of a caterpillar eating up a leaf.

After five days' absence the boats returned from Dobbo, bringing Ali and
all the things I had sent for quite safe. A large party had assembled to
be ready to carry home the goods brought, among which were a good many
cocoa-nut, which are a great luxury here. It seems strange that they
should never plant them; but the reason simply is, that they cannot
bring their hearts to bury a good nut for the prospective advantage of
a crop twelve years hence. There is also the chance of the fruits being
dug up and eaten unless watched night and day. Among the things I had
sent for was a box of arrack, and I was now of course besieged with
requests for a little drop. I gave them a flask (about two bottles),
which was very soon finished, and I was assured that there were many
present who had not had a taste. As I feared my box would very soon be
emptied if I supplied all their demands, I told them I had given them
one, but the second they must pay for, and that afterwards I must have
a Paradise bird for each flask. They immediately sent round to all the
neighbouring houses, and mustered up a rupee in Dutch copper money, got
their second flask, and drunk it as quickly as the first, and were then
very talkative, but less noisy and importunate than I had expected. Two
or three of them got round me and begged me for the twentieth time to
tell them the name of my country. Then, as they could not pronounce it
satisfactorily, they insisted that I was deceiving them, and that it
was a name of my own invention. One funny old man, who bore a ludicrous
resemblance, to a friend of mine at home, was almost indignant.
"Ung-lung! "said he, "who ever heard of such a name?--ang
lang--anger-lung--that can't be the name of your country; you are
playing with us." Then he tried to give a convincing illustration. "My
country is Wanumbai--anybody can say Wanumbai. I'm an orang-Wanumbai;
but, N-glung! who ever heard of such a name? Do tell us the real name of
your country, and then when you are gone we shall know how to talk about
you." To this luminous argument and remonstrance I could oppose nothing
but assertion, and the whole party remained firmly convinced that I
was for some reason or other deceiving them. They then attacked me on
another point--what all the animals and birds and insects and shells
were preserved so carefully for. They had often asked me this before,
and I had tried to explain to them that they would be stuffed, and made
to look as if alive, and people in my country would go to look at them.
But this was not satisfying; in my country there must be many better
things to look at, and they could not believe I would take so much
trouble with their birds and beasts just for people to look at. They did
not want to look at them; and we, who made calico and glass and knives,
and all sorts of wonderful things, could not want things from Aru to
look at. They had evidently been thinking about it, and had at length
got what seemed a very satisfactory theory; for the same old man said to
me, in a low, mysterious voice, "What becomes of them when you go on to
the sea?" "Why, they are all packed up in boxes," said I "What did you
think became of them?" "They all come to life again, don't they?" said
he; and though I tried to joke it off, and said if they did we should
have plenty to eat at sea, he stuck to his opinion, and kept repeating,
with an air of deep conviction, "Yes, they all come to life again,
that's what they do--they all come to life again."

After a little while, and a good deal of talking among themselves, he
began again--"I know all about it--oh yes! Before you came we had rain
every day--very wet indeed; now, ever since you have been here, it is
fine hot weather. Oh, yes! I know all about it; you can't deceive me."
And so I was set down as a conjurer, and was unable to repel the charge.
But the conjurer was completely puzzled by the next question: "What,"
said the old man, "is the great ship, where the Bugis and Chinamen go to
sell their things? It is always in the great sea--its name is Jong; tell
us all about it." In vain I inquired what they knew about it; they knew
nothing but that it was called "Jong," and was always in the sea,
and was a very great ship, and concluded with, "Perhaps that is your
country?" Finding that I could not or would not tell them anything about
"Jong," there came more regrets that I would not tell them the real name
of my country; and then a long string of compliments, to the effect that
I was a much better sort of a person than the Bugis and Chinese, who
sometimes came to trade with them, for I gave them things for nothing,
and did not try to cheat them. How long would I stop? was the next
earnest inquiry. Would I stay two or three months? They would get me
plenty of birds and animals, and I might soon finish all the goods I had
brought, and then, said the old spokesman, "Don't go away, but send for
more things from Dobbo, and stay here a year or two." And then again the
old story, "Do tell us the name of your country. We know the Bugis men,
and the Macassar men, and the Java men, and the China men; only you,
we don't know from what country you come. Ung-lung! it can't be; I know
that is not the name of your country." Seeing no end to this long talk,
I said I was tired, and wanted to go to sleep; so after begging--one a
little bit of dry fish for his supper, and another a little salt to eat
with his sago--they went off very quietly, and I went outside and took
a stroll round the house by moonlight, thinking of the simple people
and the strange productions of Aru, and then turned in under my mosquito
curtain; to sleep with a sense of perfect security in the midst of these
good-natured savages.

We now had seven or eight days of hot and dry weather, which reduced the
little river to a succession of shallow pools connected by the smallest
possible thread of trickling water. If there were a dry season like that
of Macassar, the Aru Islands would be uninhabitable, as there is no part
of them much above a hundred feet high; and the whole being a mass of
porous coralline rock, allows the surface water rapidly to escape.
The only dry season they have is for a month or two about September
or October, and there is then an excessive scarcity of water, so that
sometimes hundreds of birds and other animals die of drought. The
natives then remove to houses near the sources of the small streams,
where, in the shady depths of the forest, a small quantity of water
still remains. Even then many of them have to go miles for their water,
which they keep in large bamboos and use very sparingly. They assure
me that they catch and kill game of all kinds, by watching at the water
holes or setting snares around them. That would be the time for me
to make my collections; but the want of water would be a terrible
annoyance, and the impossibility of getting away before another whole
year had passed made it out of the question.

Ever since leaving Dobbo I had suffered terribly from insects, who
seemed here bent upon revenging my long-continued persecution of their
race. At our first stopping-place sand-flies were very abundant at
night, penetrating to every part of the body, and producing a more
lasting irritation than mosquitoes. My feet and ankles especially
suffered, and were completely covered with little red swollen specks,
which tormented me horribly. On arriving here we were delighted to find
the house free from sand-flies or mosquitoes, but in the plantations
where my daily walks led me, the day-biting mosquitoes swarmed, and
seemed especially to delight in attaching my poor feet. After a month's
incessant punishment, those useful members rebelled against such
treatment and broke into open insurrection, throwing out numerous
inflamed ulcers, which were very painful, and stopped me from walking.
So I found myself confined to the house, and with no immediate prospect
of leaving it. Wounds or sores in the feet are especially difficult to
heal in hot climates, and I therefore dreaded them more than any other
illness. The confinement was very annoying, as the fine hot weather was
excellent for insects, of which I had every promise of obtaining a fine
collection; and it is only by daily and unremitting search that the
smaller kinds, and the rarer and more interesting specimens, can be
obtained. When I crawled down to the river-side to bathe, I often
saw the blue-winged Papilio ulysses, or some other equally rare and
beautiful insect; but there was nothing for it but patience, and
to return quietly to my bird-skinning, or whatever other work I had
indoors. The stings and bites and ceaseless irritation caused by these
pests of the tropical forests, would be borne uncomplainingly; but to be
kept prisoner by them in so rich and unexplored a country where rare and
beautiful creatures are to be met with in every forest ramble--a country
reached by such a long and tedious voyage, and which might not in the
present century be again visited for the same purpose--is a punishment
too severe for a naturalist to pass over in silence.

I had, however, some consolation in the birds my boys brought home
daily, more especially the Paradiseas, which they at length obtained in
full plumage. It was quite a relief to my mind to get these, for I could
hardly have torn myself away from Aru had I not obtained specimens.

But what I valued almost as much as the birds themselves was the
knowledge of their habits, which I was daily obtaining both from the
accounts of my hunters, and from the conversation of the natives. The
birds had now commenced what the people here call their "sacaleli," or
dancing-parties, in certain trees in the forest, which are not fruit
trees as I at first imagined, but which have an immense tread of
spreading branches and large but scattered leaves, giving a clear space
for the birds to play and exhibit their plumes. On one of these trees
a dozen or twenty full-plumaged male birds assemble together, raise
up their wings, stretch out their necks, and elevate their exquisite
plumes, keeping them in a continual vibration. Between whiles they fly
across from branch to branch in great excitement, so that the whole tree
is filled with waving plumes in every variety of attitude and motion.
(See Frontispiece.) The bird itself is nearly as large as a crow, and
is of a rich coffee brown colour. The head and neck is of a pure straw
yellow above and rich metallic green beneath. The long plumy tufts of
golden orange feathers spring from the sides beneath each wing, and when
the bird is in repose are partly concealed by them. At the time of its
excitement, however, the wings are raised vertically over the back, the
head is bent down and stretched out, and the long plumes are raised up
and expanded till they form two magnificent golden fans, striped with
deep red at the base, and fading off into the pale brown tint of
the finely divided and softly waving points. The whole bird is then
overshadowed by them, the crouching body, yellow head, and emerald green
throat forming but the foundation and setting to the golden glory which
waves above. When seen in this attitude, the Bird of Paradise really
deserves its name, and must be ranked as one of the most beautiful and
most wonderful of living things. I continued also to get specimens
of the lovely little king-bird occasionally, as well as numbers of
brilliant pigeons, sweet little parroquets, and many curious small
birds, most nearly resembling those of Australia and New Guinea.

Here, as among most savage people I have dwelt among, I was delighted
with the beauty of the human form-a beauty of which stay-at-home
civilized people can scarcely have any conception. What are the finest
Grecian statues to the living, moving, breathing men I saw daily around
me? The unrestrained grace of the naked savage as he goes about
his daily occupations, or lounges at his ease, must be seen to be
understood; and a youth bending his bow is the perfection of manly
beauty. The women, however, except in extreme youth, are by no means so
pleasant to look at as the men. Their strongly-marked features are very
unfeminine, and hard work, privations, and very early marriages soon
destroy whatever of beauty or grace they may for a short time possess.
Their toilet is very simple, but also, I am sorry to say, very coarse,
and disgusting. It consists solely of a mat of plaited strips of palm
leaves, worn tight round the body, and reaching from the hips to the
knees. It seems not to be changed till worn out, is seldom washed, and
is generally very dirty. This is the universal dress, except in a few
cases where Malay "sarongs" have come into use. Their frizzly hair is
tied in a bench at the back of the head. They delight in combing, or
rather forking it, using for that purpose a large wooden fork with four
diverging prongs, which answers the purpose of separating and arranging
the long tangled, frizzly mass of cranial vegetation much better than
any comb could do. The only ornaments of the women are earrings and
necklaces, which they arrange in various tasteful ways. The ends of a
necklace are often attached to the earrings, and then looped on to
the hair-knot behind. This has really an elegant appearance, the beads
hanging gracefully on each side of the head, and by establishing a
connexion with the earrings give an appearance of utility to those
barbarous ornaments. We recommend this style to the consideration of
those of the fair sex who still bore holes in their ears and hang rings
thereto. Another style of necklace among these Papuan belles is to wear
two, each hanging on one side of the neck and under the opposite arm, so
as to cross each other. This has a very pretty appearance, in part due
to the contrast of the white beads or kangaroo teeth of which they are
composed with the dark glossy skin. The earrings themselves are formed
of a bar of copper or silver, twisted so that the ends cross. The men,
as usual among savages, adorn themselves more than the women. They wear
necklaces, earrings, and finger rings, and delight in a band of plaited
grass tight round the arm just below the shoulder, to which they attach
a bunch of hair or bright coloured feathers by way of ornament. The
teeth of small animals, either alone, or alternately with black or white
beads, form their necklaces, and sometimes bracelets also. For
these latter, however, they prefer brass wire, or the black, horny,
wing-spines of the cassowary, which they consider a charm. Anklets of
brass or shell, and tight plaited garters below the knee, complete their
ordinary decorations.

Some natives of Kobror from further south, and who are reckoned the
worst and least civilized of the Aru tribes, came one day to visit us.
They have a rather more than usually savage appearance, owing to the
greater amount of ornaments they use--the most conspicuous being a
large horseshoe-shaped comb which they wear over the forehead, the ends
resting on the temples. The back of the comb is fastened into a piece of
wood, which is plated with tin in front, and above is attached a plume
of feathers from a cock's tail. In other respects they scarcely differed
from the people I was living with. They brought me a couple of birds,
some shells and insects; showing that the report of the white man and
his doing had reached their country. There was probably hardly a man in
Aru who had not by this time heard of me.

Besides the domestic utensils already mentioned, the moveable property
of a native is very scanty. He has a good supply of spears and bows
and arrows for hunting, a parang, or chopping-knife, and an axe-for the
stone age has passed away here, owing to the commercial enterprise of
the Bugis and other Malay races. Attached to a belt, or hung across
his shoulder, he carries a little skin pouch and an ornamented
bamboo, containing betel-nut, tobacco, and lime, and a small German
wooden-handled knife is generally stuck between his waist-cloth of bark
and his bare shin. Each man also possesses a "cadjan," or sleeping-mat,
made of the broad leaves of a pandanus neatly sewn together in three
layers. This mat is abort four feet square, and when folded has one end
sewn up, so that it forms a kind of sack open at one side. In the closed
corner the head or feet can be placed, or by carrying it on the head
in a shower it forms both coat and umbrella. It doubles up ix a small
compass for convenient carriage, and then forms a light and elastic
cushion, so that on a journey it becomes clothing, house, bedding, and
furniture, all in one.

The only ornaments in an Aru horse are trophies of the chase--jaws of
wild pigs, the heads and backbones of cassowaries, and plumes made from
the feathers of the Bird of Paradise, cassowary, and domestic fowl.
The spears, shields, knife-handles, and other utensils are more or less
carved in fanciful designs, and the mats and leaf boxes are painted or
plaited in neat patterns of red, black, and yellow colours. I must not
forget these boxes, which are most ingeniously made of the pith of
a balm leaf pegged together, lined inside with pandanus leaves, and
outside with the same, or with plaited grass. All the joints and angles
are coffered with strips of split rattan sewn neatly on. The lid is
covered with the brown leathery spathe of the Areca palm, which is
impervious to water, and the whole box is neat, strong, and well
finished. They are made from a few inches to two or three feet long, and
being much esteemed by the Malay as clothes-boxes, are a regular article
of export from Aru. The natives use the smaller ones for tobacco or
betel-nut, but seldom have clothes enough to require the larger ones,
which are only made for sale.

Among the domestic animals which may generally be seen in native houses,
are gaudy parrots, green, red, and blue, a few domestic fowls, which
have baskets hung for them to lay in under the eaves, and who sleep on
the ridge, and several half-starved wolfish-baking dogs. Instead of rats
and mice there are curious little marsupial animals about the same size,
which run about at night and nibble anything eatable that may be left
uncovered. Four or five different kinds of ants attack everything not
isolated by water, and one kind even swims across that; great spiders
lurk in baskets and boxes, or hide in the folds of my mosquito curtain;
centipedes and millepedes are found everywhere. I have caught them under
my pillow and on my bead; while in every box, and under every hoard
which has lain for some days undisturbed, little scorpions are sure to
be found snugly ensconced, with their formidable tails quickly turned
up ready for attack or defence. Such companions seem very alarming
and dangerous, but all combined are not so bad as the irritation of
mosquitoes, or of the insect pests often found at home. These latter are
a constant and unceasing source of torment and disgust, whereas you
may live a long time among scorpions, spiders, and centipedes, ugly and
venomous though they are, and get no harm from them. After living twelve
years in the tropics, I have never yet been bitten or stung by either.

The lean and hungry dogs before mentioned were my greatest enemies,
and kept me constantly on the watch. If my boys left the bird they
were skinning for an instant, it was sure to be carried off. Everything
eatable had to be hung up to the roof, to be out of their reach. Ali
had just finished skinning a fine King Bird of Paradise one day, when
he dropped the skin. Before he could stoop to pick it up, one of this
famished race had seized upon it, and he only succeeded in rescuing
it from its fangs after it was torn to tatters. Two skins of the
large Paradisea, which were quite dry and ready to pack away, were
incautiously left on my table for the night, wrapped up in paper. The
next morning they were gone, and only a few scattered feathers indicated
their fate. My hanging shelf was out of their reach; but having stupidly
left a box which served as a step, a full-plumaged Paradise bird was
next morning missing; and a dog below the house was to be seen still
mumbling over the fragments, with the fine golden plumes all trampled
in the mud. Every night, as soon as I was in bed, I could hear them
searching about for what they could devour, under my table, and all
about my boxes and baskets, keeping me in a state of suspense till
morning, lest something of value might incautiously have been left
within their read. They would drink the oil of my floating lamp and eat
the wick, and upset or break my crockery if my lazy boys had neglected
to wash away even the smell of anything eatable. Bad, however, as they
are here, they were worse in a Dyak's house in Borneo where I was once
staying, for there they gnawed off the tops of my waterproof boots,
ate a large piece out of an old leather game-bag, besides devouring a
portion of my mosquito curtain!

April 28th.--Last evening we had a grand consultation, which had
evidently been arranged and discussed beforehand. A number of the
natives gathered round me, and said they wanted to talk. Two of the best
Malay scholars helped each other, the rest putting in hints and ideas
in their own language. They told me a long rambling story; but, partly
owing to their imperfect knowledge of Malay, partly through my ignorance
of local terms, and partly through the incoherence of their narrative, I
could not make it out very clearly. It was, however, a tradition, and
I was glad to find they had anything of the kind. A long time ago, they
said, some strangers came to Aru, and came here to Wanumbai, and the
chief of the Wanumbai people did not like them, and wanted them to go
away, but they would not go, and so it came to fighting, and many Aru
men were killed, and some, along with the chief, were taken prisoners,
and carried away by the strangers. Some of the speakers, however, said
that he was not carried away, but went away in his own boat to escape
from the foreigners, and went to the sea and never came back again. But
they all believe that the chief and the people that went with him still
live in some foreign country; and if they could but find out where, they
would send for them to come back again. Now having some vague idea that
white men must know every country beyond the sea, they wanted to know
if I had met their people in my country or in the sea. They thought they
must be there, for they could not imagine where else they could be. They
had sought for them everywhere, they said--on the land and in the sea,
in the forest and on the mountains, in the air and in the sky, and could
not find them; therefore, they must be in my country, and they begged
me to tell them, for I must surely know, as I came from across the
great sea. I tried to explain to them that their friends could not have
reached my country in small boats; and that there were plenty of islands
like Aru all about the sea, which they would be sure to find. Besides,
as it was so long ago, the chief and all the people must be dead. But
they quite laughed at this idea, and said they were sure they were
alive, for they had proof of it. And then they told me that a good many
years ago, when the speakers were boys, some Wokan men who were out
fishing met these lost people in the sea, and spoke to them; and the
chief gave the Wokan men a hundred fathoms of cloth to bring to the men
of Wanumbai, to show that they were alive and would soon come back to
them, but the Wokan men were thieves, and kept the cloth, and they only
heard of it afterwards; and when they spoke about it, the Wokan men
denied it, and pretended they had not received the cloth;--so they were
quite sure their friends were at that time alive and somewhere in the
sea. And again, not many years ago, a report came to them that some
Bugis traders had brought some children of their lost people; so they
went to Dobbo to see about it, and the owner of the house, who was now
speaking to me, was one who went; but the Bugis man would not let them
see the children, and threatened to kill them if they came into his
house. He kept the children shut up in a large box, and when he went
away he took them with him. And at the end of each of these stories,
they begged me in an imploring tone to tell them if I knew where their
chief and their people now were.

By dint of questioning, I got some account of the strangers who had
taken away their people. They said they were wonderfully strong, and
each one could kill a great many Aru men; and when they were wounded,
however badly, they spit upon the place, and it immediately became well.
And they made a great net of rattans, and entangled their prisoners in
it, and sunk them in the water; and the next day, when they pulled
the net up on shore, they made the drowned men come to life again, and
carried them away.

Much more of the same kind was told me, but in so confused and rambling
a manner that I could make nothing out of it, till I inquired how long
ago it was that all this happened, when they told me that after their
people were taken away the Bugis came in their praus to trade in Aru,
and to buy tripang and birds' nests. It is not impossible that something
similar to what they related to me really happened when the early
Portuguese discoverers first came to Aru, and has formed the foundation
for a continually increasing accumulation of legend and fable. I have
no doubt that to the next generation, or even before, I myself shall be
transformed into a magician or a demigod, a worker of miracles, and
a being of supernatural knowledge. They already believe that all the
animals I preserve will come to life again; and to their children it
will be related that they actually did so. An unusual spell of fine
weather setting in just at my arrival has made them believe I can
control the seasons; and the simple circumstance of my always walking
alone in the forest is a wonder and a mystery to them, as well as my
asking them about birds and animals I have not yet seen, and showing
an acquaintance with their form, colours, and habits. These facts are
brought against me when I disclaim knowledge of what they wish me to
tell them. "You must know," say they; "you know everything: you make the
fine weather for your men to shoot, and you know all about our birds and
our animals as well as we do; and you go alone into the forest and
are not afraid." Therefore every confession of ignorance on my part is
thought to be a blind, a mere excuse to avoid telling them too much. My
very writing materials and books are to them weird things; and were I to
choose to mystify them by a few simple experiments with lens and magnet,
miracles without end would in a few years cluster about me; and future
travellers, penetrating to Wanumbai, world h hardly believe that a poor
English naturalist, who had resided a few months among them, could have
been the original of the supernatural being to whom so many marvels were
attributed.

Far some days I had noticed a good deal of excitement, and many
strangers came and went armed with spears and cutlasses, bows and
shields. I now found there was war near us--two neighbouring villages
having a quarrel about some matter of local politics that I could not
understand. They told me it was quite a common thing, and that they are
rarely without fighting somewhere near. Individual quarrels are taken up
by villages and tribes, and the nonpayment of the stipulated price for a
wife is one of the most frequent causes of bitterness and bloodshed. One
of the war shields was brought me to look at. It was made of rattans
and covered with cotton twist, so as to be both light, strong, and very
tough. I should think it would resist any ordinary bullet. Abort the
middle there was au arm-hole with a shutter or flap over it. This
enables the arm to be put through and the bow drawn, while the body
and face, up to the eyes, remain protected, which cannot be done if
the shield is carried on the arm by loops attached at the back in the
ordinary way. A few of the young men from our house went to help their
friends, but I could not bear that any of them were hurt, or that there
was much hard fighting.

May 8th.-I had now been six weeks at Wanumbai, but for more than half
the time was laid up in the house with ulcerated feet. My stores being
nearly exhausted, and my bird and insect boxes full, and having no
immediate prospect of getting the use of my legs again, I determined
on returning to Dobbo. Birds had lately become rather scarce, and the
Paradise birds had not yet become as plentiful as the natives assured me
they would be in another month. The Wanumbai people seemed very sorry
at my departure; and well they might be, for the shells and insects they
picked up on the way to and from their plantations, and the birds the
little boys shot with their bows and arrows, kept them all well supplied
with tobacco and gambir, besides enabling them to accumulate a stock
of beads and coppers for future expenses. The owner of the house was
supplied gratis with a little rice, fish, or salt, whenever he asked for
it, which I must say was not very often. On parting, I distributed among
them my remnant stock of salt and tobacco, and gave my host a flask
of arrack, and believe that on the whole my stay with these simple
and good-natured people was productive of pleasure and profit to
both parties. I fully intended to come back; and had I known that
circumstances would have prevented my doing so, shoed have felt some
sorrow in leaving a place where I had first seen so many rare and
beautiful living things, and bad so fully enjoyed the pleasure which
fills the heart of the naturalist when he is so fortunate as to discover
a district hitherto unexplored, and where every day brings forth new and
unexpected treasures. We loaded our boat in the afternoon, and, starting
before daybreak, by the help of a fair wind reached Dobbo late the same
evening.



CHAPTER XXXII. THE ARU ISLANDS.--SECOND RESIDENCE AT DOBBO.

(MAY AND JUNE 1857.)

DOBBO was full to overflowing, and I was obliged to occupy the
court-house where the Commissioners hold their sittings. They had now
left the island, and I found the situation agreeable, as it was at the
end of the village, with a view down the principal street. It was a mere
shed, but half of it had a roughly boarded floor, and by putting up a
partition and opening a window I made it a very pleasant abode. In one
of the boxes I had left in charge of Herr Warzbergen, a colony of small
ants had settled and deposited millions of eggs. It was luckily a fine
hot day, and by carrying the box some distance from the house, and
placing every article in the sunshine for an hour or two, I got rid of
them without damage, as they were fortunately a harmless species.

Dobbo now presented an animated appearance. Five or six new houses
had been added to the street; the praus were all brought round to the
western side of the point, where they were hauled up on the beach, and
were being caulked and covered with a thick white lime-plaster for the
homeward voyage, making them the brightest and cleanest looking
things in the place. Most of the small boats had returned from the
"blakang-tana" (back country), as the side of the islands towards New
Guinea is called. Piles of firewood were being heaped up behind the
houses; sail-makers and carpenters were busy at work; mother-of-pearl
shell was being tied up in bundles, and the black and ugly smoked
tripang was having a last exposure to the sun before loading. The spare
portion of the crews were employed cutting and squaring timber, and
boats from Ceram and Goram were constantly unloading their cargoes of
sago-cake for the traders' homeward voyage. The fowls, ducks, and goats
all looked fat and thriving on the refuse food of a dense population,
and the Chinamen's pigs were in a state of obesity that foreboded early
death. Parrots and Tories and cockatoos, of a dozen different binds,
were suspended on bamboo perches at the doors of the houses, with
metallic green or white fruit-pigeons which cooed musically at noon and
eventide. Young cassowaries, strangely striped with black and brown,
wandered about the houses or gambolled with the playfulness of kittens
in the hot sunshine, with sometimes a pretty little kangaroo, caught in
the Aru forests, but already tame and graceful as a petted fawn.

Of an evening there were more signs of life than at the time of my
former residence. Tom-toms, jews'-harps, and even fiddles were to be
heard, and the melancholy Malay songs sounded not unpleasantly far into
the night. Almost every day there was a cock-fight in the street. The
spectators make a ring, and after the long steel spurs are tied on,
and the poor animals are set down to gash and kill each other, the
excitement is immense. Those who lave made bets scream and yell and jump
frantically, if they think they are going to win or lose, but in a very
few minutes it is all over; there is a hurrah from the winners, the
owners seize their cocks, the winning bird is caressed and admired, the
loser is generally dead or very badly wounded, and his master may often
be seen plucking out his feathers as he walks away, preparing him for
the cooking pot while the poor bird is still alive.

A game at foot-ball, which generally took place at sunset, was, however,
much more interesting to me. The ball used is a rather small one, and is
made of rattan, hollow, light, and elastic. The player keeps it dancing
a little while on his foot, then occasionally on his arm or thigh, till
suddenly he gives it a good blow with the hollow of the foot, and sends
it flying high in the air. Another player runs to meet it, and at its
first bound catches it on his foot and plays in his turn. The ball must
never be touched with the hand; but the arm, shoulder, knee, or
thigh are used at pleasure to rest the foot. Two or three played very
skilfully, keeping the ball continually flying about, but the place was
too confined to show off the game to advantage. One evening a quarrel
arose from some dispute in the game, and there was a great row, and
it was feared there would be a fight about it--not two men only, but a
party of a dozen or twenty on each side, a regular battle with knives
and krisses; but after a large amount of talk it passed off quietly, and
we heard nothing about it afterwards.

Most Europeans being gifted by nature with a luxuriant growth of hair
upon their faces, think it disfigures them, and keep up a continual
struggle against her by mowing down every morning the crop which has
sprouted up flaring the preceding twenty-four hours. Now the men of
Mongolian race are, naturally, just as many of us want to he. They
mostly pass their lives with faces as smooth and beardless as an
infant's. But shaving seems an instinct of the human race; for many of
these people, having no hair to take off their faces, shave their heads.
Others, however, set resolutely to work to force nature to give them a
beard. One of the chief cock-fighters at Dobbo was a Javanese, a sort of
master of the ceremonies of the ring, who tied on the spars and acted as
backer-up to one of the combatants. This man had succeeded, by assiduous
cultivation, in raising a pair of moustaches which were a triumph of
art, for they each contained about a dozen hairs more than three inches
long, and which, being well greased and twisted, were distinctly visible
(when not too far off) as a black thread hanging down on each side of
his mouth. But the beard to match was the difficulty, for nature had
cruelly refused to give him a rudiment of hair on his chin, and the most
talented gardener could not do much if he had nothing to cultivate.
But true genius triumphs over difficulties. Although there was no hair
proper on the chin; there happened to be, rather on one side of it, a
small mole or freckle which contained (as such things frequently do) a
few stray hairs. These had been made the most of. They had reached four
or five inches in length, and formed another black thread dangling
from the left angle of the chin. The owner carried this as if it
were something remarkable (as it certainly was); he often felt it
affectionately, passed it between his fingers, and was evidently
extremely proud of his moustaches and beard!

One of the most surprising things connected with Aru was the excessive
cheapness of all articles of European or native manufacture. We
were here two thousand miles beyond Singapore and Batavia, which are
themselves emporiums of the "far east," in a place unvisited by, and
almost unknown to, European traders; everything reached us through at
least two or three hands, often many more; yet English calicoes and
American cotton cloths could be bought for 8s. the piece, muskets for
15s., common scissors and German knives at three-halfpence each, and
other cutlery, cotton goods, and earthenware in the same proportion.
The natives of this out-of-the-way country can, in fact, buy all these
things at about the same money price as our workmen at home, but in
reality very much cheaper, for the produce of a few hours' labour
enables the savage to purchase in abundance what are to him luxuries,
while to the European they are necessaries of life. The barbarian is no
happier and no better off for this cheapness. On the contrary, it has
a most injurious effect on him. He wants the stimulus of necessity to
force him to labour; and if iron were as dear as silver, and calico as
costly as satin, the effect would be beneficial to him. As it is, he
has more idle hours, gets a more constant supply of tobacco, and can
intoxicate himself with arrack more frequently and more thoroughly; for
your Aru man scorns to get half drunk-a tumbler full of arrack is but a
slight stimulus, and nothing less than half a gallon of spirit will make
him tipsy to his own satisfaction.

It is not agreeable to reflect on this state of things. At least half
of the vast multitudes of uncivilized peoples, on whom our gigantic
manufacturing system, enormous capital, and intense competition force
the produce of our looms and workshops, would be not a whit worse off
physically, and would certainly be improved morally, if all the articles
with which w e supply them were double or treble their present prices.
If at the same time the difference of cost, or a large portion of
it, could find its way into the pockets of the manufacturing workmen,
thousands would be raised from want to comfort, from starvation to
health, and would be removed from one of the chief incentives to crime.
It is difficult for an Englishman to avoid contemplating with pride our
gigantic and ever-increasing manufactures and commerce, and thinking
everything good that renders their progress still more rapid, either
by lowering the price at which the articles can be produced, or by
discovering new markets to which they may be sent. If, however, the
question that is so frequently asked of the votaries of the less popular
sciences were put here--"Cui bono?"--it would be found more difficult to
answer than had been imagined. The advantages, even to the few who reap
them, would be seen to be mostly physical, while the wide-spread moral
and intellectual evils resulting from unceasing labour, low wages,
crowded dwellings, and monotonous occupations, to perhaps as large a
number as those who gain any real advantage, might be held to show
a balance of evil so great, as to lead the greatest admirers of our
manufactures and commerce to doubt the advisability of their further
development. It will be said: "We cannot stop it; capital must be
employed; our population must be kept at work; if we hesitate a moment,
other nations now hard pressing us will get ahead, and national ruin
will follow." Some of this is true, some fallacious. It is undoubtedly a
difficult problem which we have to solve; and I am inclined to think it
is this difficulty that makes men conclude that what seems a necessary
and unalterable state of things must be good-that its benefits must be
greater than its evils. This was the feeling of the American advocates
of slavery; they could not see an easy, comfortable way out of it. In
our own case, however, it is to be hoped, that if a fair consideration
of the matter in all its hearings shows that a preponderance of evil
arises from the immensity of our manufactures and commerce-evil which
must go on increasing with their increase-there is enough both of
political wisdom and true philanthropy in Englishmen, to induce them to
turn their superabundant wealth into other channels. The fact that has
led to these remarks is surely a striking one: that in one of the most
remote corners of the earth savages can buy clothing cheaper than the
people of the country where it is made; that the weaver's child should
shiver in the wintry wind, unable to purchase articles attainable by the
wild natives of a tropical climate, where clothing is mere ornament or
luxury, should make us pause ere we regard with unmixed admiration the
system which has led to such a result, and cause us to look with some
suspicion on the further extension of that system. It must be remembered
too that our commerce is not a purely natural growth. It has been ever
fostered by the legislature, and forced to an unnatural luxuriance by
the protection of our fleets and armies. The wisdom and the justice of
this policy have been already doubted. So soon, therefore, as it is seen
that the further extension of our manufactures and commerce would be an
evil, the remedy is not far to seek.

After six weeks' confinement to the house I was at length well, and
could resume my daily walks in the forest. I did not, however, find it
so productive as when I had first arrived at Dobbo. There was a damp
stagnation about the paths, and insects were very scarce. In some of my
best collecting places I now found a mass of rotting wood, mingled with
young shoots, and overgrown with climbers, yet I always managed to
add something daily to my extensive collections. I one day met with
a curious example of failure of instinct, which, by showing it to be
fallible, renders it very doubtful whether it is anything more than
hereditary habit, dependent on delicate modifications of sensation. Some
sailors cut down a good-sized tree, and, as is always my practice, I
visited it daily for some time in search of insects. Among other
beetles came swarms of the little cylindrical woodborers (Platypus,
Tesserocerus, &c.), and commenced making holes in the bark. After a day
or two I was surprised to find hundreds of them sticking in the holes
they had bored, and on examination discovered that the milky sap of the
tree was of the nature of gutta-percha, hardening rapidly on exposure to
the air, and glueing the little animals in self-dug graves. The habit
of boring holes in trees in which to deposit their eggs, was not
accompanied by a sufficient instinctive knowledge of which trees were
suitable, and which destructive to them. If, as is very probable, these
trees have an attractive odour to certain species of borers, it might
very likely lead to their becoming extinct; while other species, to whom
the same odour was disagreeable, and who therefore avoided the dangerous
trees, would survive, and would be credited by us with an instinct,
whereas they would really be guided by a simple sensation.

Those curious little beetles, the Brenthidae, were very abundant in Aru.
The females have a pointed rostrum, with which they bore deep holes in
the bark of dead trees, often burying the rostrum up to the eyes, and
in these holes deposit their eggs. The males are larger, and have the
rostrum dilated at the end, and sometimes terminating in a good-sized
pair of jaws. I once saw two males fighting together; each had a
fore-leg laid across the neck of the other, and the rostrum bent quite
in an attitude of defiance, and looking most ridiculous. Another time,
two were fighting for a female, who stood close by busy at her boring.
They pushed at each other with their rostra, and clawed and thumped,
apparently in the greatest rage, although their coats of mail must
have saved both from injury. The small one, however, soon ran away,
acknowledging himself vanquished. In most Coleoptera the female is
larger than the male, and it is therefore interesting, as bearing on the
question of sexual selection, that in this case, as in the stag-beetles
where the males fight together, they should be not only better armed,
but also much larger than the females. Just as we were going away, a
handsome tree, allied to Erythrina, was in blossom, showing its masses
of large crimson flowers scattered here and there about the forest.
Could it have been seen from an elevation, it would have had a fine
effect; from below I could only catch sight of masses of gorgeous colour
in clusters and festoons overhead, about which flocks of blue and orange
lories were fluttering and screaming.

A good many people died at Dobbo this season; I believe about twenty.
They were buried in a little grove of Casuarinas behind my house. Among
the traders was a. Mahometan priest, who superintended the funerals,
which were very simple. The body was wrapped up in new white cotton
cloth, and was carried on a bier to the grave. All the spectators sat
down on the ground, and the priest chanted some verses from the Koran.
The graves were fenced round with a slight bamboo railing, and a little
carved wooden head-post was put to mark the spot. There was also in the
village a small mosque, where every Friday the faithful went to pray.
This is probably more remote from Mecca than any other mosque in
the world, and marks the farthest eastern extension of the Mahometan
religion. The Chinese here, as elsewhere, showed their superior wealth
and civilization by tombstones of solid granite brought from Singapore,
with deeply-cut inscriptions, the characters of which are painted in
red, blue, and gold. No people have more respect for the graves of
their relations and friends than this strange, ubiquitous, money-getting
people.

Soon after we had returned to Dobbo, my Macassar boy, Baderoon, took his
wages and left me, because I scolded him for laziness. He then occupied
himself in gambling, and at first had some luck, and bought ornaments,
and had plenty of money. Then his luck turned; he lost everything,
borrowed money and lost that, and was obliged to become the slave of his
creditor till he had worked out the debt. He was a quick and active lad
when he pleased, but was apt to be idle, and had such an incorrigible
propensity for gambling, that it will very likely lead to his becoming a
slave for life.

The end of June was now approaching, the east monsoon had set
in steadily, and in another week or two Dobbo would be deserted.
Preparations for departure were everywhere visible, and every sunny day
(rather rare now) the streets were as crowded and as busy as
beehives. Heaps of tripang were finally dried and packed up in sacks;
mother-of-pearl shell, tied up with rattans into convenient bundles, was
all day long being carried to the beach to be loaded; water-casks were
filled, and cloths and mat-sails mended and strengthened for the run
home before the strong east wind. Almost every day groups of natives
arrived from the most distant parts of the islands, with cargoes of
bananas and sugar-cane to exchange for tobacco, sago, bread, and other
luxuries, before the general departure. The Chinamen killed their fat
pig and made their parting feast, and kindly sent me some pork, and a
basin of birds' nest stew, which had very little more taste than a dish
of vermicelli. My boy Ali returned from Wanumbai, where I had sent him
alone for a fortnight to buy Paradise birds and prepare the skins; he
brought me sixteen glorious specimens, and had he not been very ill with
fever and ague might have obtained twice the number. He had lived
with the people whose house I had occupied, and it is a proof of their
goodness, if fairly treated, that although he took with him a quantity
of silver dollars to pay for the birds they caught, no attempt was made
to rob him, which might have been done with the most perfect impunity.
He was kindly treated when ill, and was brought back to me with the
balance of the dollars he had not spent.

The Wanumbai people, like almost all the inhabitants of the Aru Islands,
are perfect savages, and I saw no signs of any religion. There are,
however, three or four villages on the coast where schoolmasters from
Amboyna reside, and the people are nominally Christians, and are to some
extent educated and civilized. I could not get much real knowledge of
the customs of the Aru people during the short time I was among them,
but they have evidently been considerably influenced by their long
association with Mahometan traders. They often bury their dead, although
the national custom is to expose the body an a raised stage till it
decomposes. Though there is no limit to the number of wives a man may
have, they seldom exceed one or two. A wife is regularly purchased from
the parents, the price being a large assortment of articles, always
including gongs, crockery, and cloth. They told me that some of the
tribes kill the old men and women when they can no longer work, but I
saw many very old and decrepid people, who seemed pretty well attended
to. No doubt all who have much intercourse with the Bugis and Ceramese
traders gradually lose many of their native customs, especially as these
people often settle in their villages and marry native women.

The trade carried on at Dobbo is very considerable. This year there were
fifteen large praus from Macassar, and perhaps a hundred small boats
from Ceram, Goram, and Ke. The Macassar cargoes are worth about £1,000.
each, and the other boats take away perhaps about £3,000, worth, so that
the whole exports may be estimated at £18,000. per annum. The largest
and most bulky items are pearl-shell and tripang, or "beche-de-mer,"
with smaller quantities of tortoise-shell, edible birds' nests, pearls,
ornamental woods, timber, and Birds of Paradise. These are purchased
with a variety of goods. Of arrack, about equal in strength to ordinary
West India rum, 3,000 boxes, each containing fifteen half-gallon
bottles, are consumed annually. Native cloth from Celebes is much
esteemed for its durability, and large quantities are sold, as well as
white English calico and American unbleached cottons, common crockery,
coarse cutlery, muskets, gunpowder, gongs, small brass cannon, and
elephants' tusks. These three last articles constitute the wealth of the
Aru people, with which they pay for their wives, or which they hoard
up as "real property." Tobacco is in immense demand for chewing, and
it must be very strong, or an Aru man will not look at it. Knowing
how little these people generally work, the mass of produce obtained
annually shows that the islands must be pretty thickly inhabited,
especially along the coasts, as nine-tenths of the whole are marine
productions.

It was on the 2d of July that we left Aru, followed by all the Macassar
praus, fifteen in number, who had agreed to sail in company. We passed
south of Banda, and then steered due west, not seeing land for three
days, till we sighted some low islands west of Bouton. We had a strong
and steady south-east wind day and night, which carried us on at about
five knots an hour, where a clipper ship would have made twelve. The sky
was continually cloudy, dark, and threatening, with occasional drizzling
showers, till we were west of Bouru, when it cleared up and we enjoyed
the bright sunny skies of the dry season for the rest of our voyage.
It is about here, therefore that the seasons of the eastern and western
regions of the Archipelago are divided. West of this line from June to
December is generally fine, and often very dry, the rest of the year
being the wet season. East of it the weather is exceedingly uncertain,
each island, and each side of an island, having its own peculiarities.
The difference seems to consist not so much in the distribution of the
rainfall as in that of the clouds and the moistness of the atmosphere.
In Aru, for example, when we left, the little streams were all dried up,
although the weather was gloomy; while in January, February, and March,
when we had the hottest sunshine and the finest days, they were always
flowing. The driest time of all the year in Aru occurs in September and
October, just as it does in Java and Celebes. The rainy seasons agree,
therefore, with those of the western islands, although the weather is
very different. The Molucca sea is of a very deep blue colour, quite
distinct from the clear light blue of the Atlantic. In cloudy and dull
weather it looks absolutely black, and when crested with foam has a
stern and angry aspect. The wind continued fair and strong during our
whole voyage, and we reached Macassar in perfect safety on the evening
of the 11th of July, having made the passage from Aru (more than a
thousand miles) in nine and a half days.

My expedition to the Aru Islands had been eminently successful. Although
I had been for months confined to the house by illness, and had lost
much time by the want of the means of locomotion, and by missing the
right season at the right place, I brought away with me more than nine
thousand specimens of natural objects, of about sixteen hundred distinct
species. I had made the acquaintance of a strange and little-known race
of men; I had become familiar with the traders of the far East; I had
revelled in the delights of exploring a new fauna and flora, one of the
most remarkable and most beautiful and least-known in the world; and
I had succeeded in the main object for which I had undertaken the
journey-namely, to obtain fine specimens of the magnificent Birds of
Paradise, and to be enabled to observe them in their native forests. By
this success I was stimulated to continue my researches in the Moluccas
and New Guinea for nearly five years longer, and it is still the portion
of my travels to which I look back with the most complete satisfaction.



CHAPTER XXXIII. THE ARU ISLANDS--PHYSICAL GEOGRAPHY AND ASPECTS OF
NATURE.

IN this chapter I propose to give a general sketch of the physical
geography of the Aru Islands, and of their relation to the surrounding
countries; and shall thus be able to incorporate the information
obtained from traders, and from the works of other naturalists with
my own observations in these exceedingly interesting and little-known
regions.

The Aru group may be said to consist of one very large central island
with a number of small ones scattered round it. The great island is
called by the natives and traders "Tang-busar" (great or mainland), to
distinguish it as a whole from Dobbo, or any of the detached islands. It
is of an irregular oblong form, about eighty miles from north to south,
and forty or fifty from east to west, in which direction it is traversed
by three narrow channels, dividing it into four portions. These channels
are always called rivers by the traders, which puzzled me much till I
passed through one of them, and saw how exceedingly applicable the
name was. The northern channel, called the river of Watelai, is about
a quarter of a mile wide at its entrance, but soon narrows to abort the
eighth of a mile, which width it retains, with little variation, during
its whole, length of nearly fifty miles, till it again widens at its
eastern mouth. Its course is moderately winding, and the hanks are
generally dry and somewhat elevated. In many places there are low cliffs
of hard coralline limestone, more or less worn by the action of water;
while sometimes level spaces extend from the banks to low ranges of
hills a little inland. A few small streams enter it from right and left,
at the mouths of which are some little rocky islands. The depth is
very regular, being from ten to fifteen fathoms, and it has thus every
feature of a true river, but for the salt water and the absence of a
current. The other two rivers, whose names are Vorkai and Maykor, are
said to be very similar in general character; but they are rather near
together, and have a number of cross channels intersecting the flat
tract between them. On the south side of Maykor the banks are
very rocky, and from thence to the southern extremity of Aru is
an uninterrupted extent of rather elevated and very rocky country,
penetrated by numerous small streams, in the high limestone cliffs
bordering which the edible birds' nests of Aru are chiefly obtained.
All my informants stated that the two southern rivers are larger than
Watelai.

The whole of Aru is low, but by no means so flat as it has been
represented, or as it appears from the sea. Most of it is dry rocky
ground, with a somewhat undulating surface, rising here and there
into abrupt hillocks, or cut into steep and narrow ravines. Except the
patches of swamp which are found at the mouths of most of the small
rivers, there is no absolutely level ground, although the greatest
elevation is probably not more than two hundred feet. The rock which
everywhere appears in the ravines and brooks is a coralline limestone,
in some places soft and pliable, in others so hard and crystalline as to
resemble our mountain limestone.

The small islands which surround the central mass are very numerous;
but most of them are on the east side, where they form a fringe, often
extending ten or fifteen miles from the main islands. On the west there
are very few, Wamma and Palo Pabi being the chief, with Ougia, and
Wassia at the north-west extremity. On the east side the sea is
everywhere shallow, and full of coral; and it is here that the
pearl-shells are found which form one of the chief staples of Aru trade.
All the islands are covered with a dense and very lofty forest.

The physical features here described are of peculiar interest, and, as
far as I am aware, are to some extent unique; for I have been unable
to find any other record of an island of the size of Aru crossed
by channels which exactly resemble true rivers. How these channels
originated were a complete puzzle to me, till, after a long
consideration of the whole of the natural phenomena presented by
these islands, I arrived at a conclusion which I will now endeavour to
explain. There are three ways in which we may conceive islands which
are not volcanic to have been formed, or to have been reduced to their
present condition, by elevation, by subsidence, or by separation from
a continent or larger island. The existence of coral rock, or of raised
beaches far inland, indicates recent elevation; lagoon coral-islands,
and such as have barrier or encircling reefs, have suffered subsidence;
while our own islands, whose productions are entirely those of the
adjacent continent, have been separated from it. Now the Aru Islands are
all coral rock, and the adjacent sea is shallow and full of coral, it is
therefore evident that they have been elevated from beneath the ocean
at a not very distant epoch. But if we suppose that elevation to be the
first and only cause of their present condition, we shall find ourselves
quite unable to explain the curious river-channels which divide them.
Fissures during upheaval would not produce the regular width, the
regular depth, or the winding curves which characterise them; and the
action of tides and currents during their elevation might form straits
of irregular width and depth, but not the river-like channels which
actually exist. If, again, we suppose the last movement to have been
one of subsidence, reducing the size of the islands, these channels
are quite as inexplicable; for subsidence would necessarily lead to
the flooding of all low tracts on the banks of the old rivers, and thus
obliterate their courses; whereas these remain perfect, and of nearly
uniform width from end to end.

Now if these channels have ever been rivers they must have flowed from
some higher regions, and this must have been to the east, because on the
north and west the sea-bottom sinks down at a short distance from the
shore to an unfathomable depth; whereas on the east, a shallow sea,
nowhere exceeding fifty fathoms, extends quite across to New Guinea, a
distance of about a hundred and fifty miles. An elevation of only three
hundred feet would convert the whole of this sea into moderately high
land, and make the Aru Islands a portion of New Guinea; and the rivers
which have their mouths at Utanata and Wamuka, might then have flowed on
across Aru, in the channels which are now occupied by salt water.
Then the intervening land sunk down, we must suppose the land that
now constitutes Aru to have remained nearly stationary, a not very
improbable supposition, when we consider the great extent of the
shallow sea, and the very small amount of depression the land need have
undergone to produce it.

But the fact of the Aru Islands having once been connected with New
Guinea does not rest on this evidence alone. There is such a striking
resemblance between the productions of the two countries as only exists
between portions of a common territory. I collected one hundred species
of land-birds in the Aru Islands, and about eighty of them, have been
found on the mainland of New Guinea. Among these are the great wingless
cassowary, two species of heavy brush turkeys, and two of short winged
thrushes; which could certainly not have passed over the 150 miles of
open sea to the coast of New Guinea. This barrier is equally effectual
in the case of many other birds which live only in the depths of the
forest, as the kinghunters (Dacelo gaudichaudi), the fly-catching wrens
(Todopsis), the great crown pigeon (Goura coronata), and the small wood
doves (Ptilonopus perlatus, P. aurantiifrons, and P. coronulatus).
Now, to show the real effect of such barrier, let us take the island of
Ceram, which is exactly the same distance from New Guinea, but separated
from it by a deep sea. Cut of about seventy land-birds inhabiting Ceram,
only fifteen are found in New Guinea, and none of these are terrestrial
or forest-haunting species. The cassowary is distinct; the kingfishers,
parrots, pigeons, flycatchers, honeysuckers, thrushes, and cuckoos, are
almost always quite distinct species. More than this, at least twenty
genera, which are common to New Guinea and Aru, do not extend into
Ceram, indicating with a force which every naturalist will appreciate,
that the two latter countries have received their faunas in a radically
different manner. Again, a true kangaroo is found in Aru, and the same
species occurs in Mysol, which is equally Papuan in its productions,
while either the same, or one closely allied to it, inhabits New Guinea;
but no such animal is found in Ceram, which is only sixty miles from
Mysol. Another small marsupial animal (Perameles doreyanus) is common
to Aru and New Guinea. The insects show exactly the same results. The
butterflies of Aru are all either New Guinea species, or very slightly
modified forms; whereas those of Ceram are more distinct than are the
birds of the two countries.

It is now generally admitted that we may safely reason on such facts
as those, which supply a link in the defective geological record. The
upward and downward movements which any country has undergone, and the
succession of such movements, can be determined with much accuracy;
but geology alone can tell us nothing of lands which have entirely
disappeared beneath the ocean. Here physical geography and the
distribution of animals and plants are of the greatest service. By
ascertaining the depth of the seas separating one country from another,
we can form some judgment of the changes which are taking place. If
there are other evidences of subsidence, a shallow sea implies a former
connexion of the adjacent lands; but if this evidence is wanting, or if
there is reason to suspect a rising of the land, then the shallow
sea may be the result of that rising, and may indicate that the two
countries will be joined at some future time, but not that they have
previously been so. The nature of the animals and plants inhabiting
these countries will, however, almost always enable us to determine this
question. Mr. Darwin has shown us how we may determine in almost every
case, whether an island has ever been connected with a continent or
larger land, by the presence or absence of terrestrial Mammalia and
reptiles. What he terms "oceanic islands" possess neither of these
groups of animals, though they may have a luxuriant vegetation, and a
fair number of birds, insects, and landshells; and we therefore conclude
that they have originated in mid-ocean, and have never been connected
with the nearest masses of land. St. Helena, Madeira, and New Zealand
are examples of oceanic islands. They possess all other classes of life,
because these have means of dispersion over wide spaces of sea, which
terrestrial mammals and birds have not, as is fully explained in Sir
Charles Lyell's "Principles of Geology," and Mr. Darwin's "Origin of
Species." On the other hand, an island may never have been actually
connected with the adjacent continents or islands, and yet may possess
representatives of all classes of animals, because many terrestrial
mammals and some reptiles have the means of passing over short distances
of sea. But in these cases the number of species that have thus migrated
will be very small, and there will be great deficiencies even in birds
and flying insects, which we should imagine could easily cross over.
The island of Timor (as I have already shown in Chapter XIII) bears this
relation to Australia; for while it contains several birds and insects
of Australian forms, no Australian mammal or reptile is found in it,
and a great number of the most abundant and characteristic forms of
Australian birds and insects are entirely absent. Contrast this with the
British Islands, in, which a large proportion of the plants, insects,
reptiles, and Mammalia of the adjacent parts of the continent are fully
represented, while there are no remarkable deficiencies of extensive
groups, such as always occur when there is reason to believe there has
been no such connexion. The case of Sumatra, Borneo, and Java, and the
Asiatic continent is equally clear; many large Mammalia, terrestrial
birds, and reptiles being common to all, while a large number more
are of closely allied forms. Now, geology has taught us that this
representation by allied forms in the same locality implies lapse of
time, and we therefore infer that in Great Britain, where almost
every species is absolutely identical with those on the Continent, the
separation has been very recent; while in Sumatra and Java, where a
considerable number of the continental species are represented by allied
forms, the separation was more remote.

From these examples we may see how important a supplement to geological
evidence is the study of the geographical distribution of animals and
plants, in determining the former condition of the earth's surface; and
how impossible it is to understand the former without taking the latter
into account. The productions of the Aru Islands offer the strangest
evidence, that at no very distant epoch they formed a part of New
Guinea; and the peculiar physical features which I have described,
indicate that they must have stood at very nearly the same level then as
they do now, having been separated by the subsidence of the great plain
which formerly connected them with it.

Persons who have formed the usual ideas of the vegetation of the tropics
who picture to themselves the abundance and brilliancy of the flowers,
and the magnificent appearance of hundreds of forest trees covered with
masses of coloured blossoms, will be surprised to hear, that though
vegetation in Aru is highly luxuriant and varied, and would afford
abundance of fine and curious plants to adorn our hothouses, yet bright
and showy flowers are, as a general rule, altogether absent, or so very
scarce as to produce no effect whatever on the general scenery. To give
particulars: I have visited five distinct localities in the islands, I
have wandered daily in the forests, and have passed along upwards of a
hundred miles of coast and river during a period of six months, much of
it very fine weather, and till just as I was about to leave, I never saw
a single plant of striking brilliancy or beauty, hardly a shrub equal to
a hawthorn, or a climber equal to a honeysuckle! It cannot be said that
the flowering season had not arrived, for I saw many herbs, shrubs,
and forest trees in flower, but all had blossoms of a green or
greenish-white tint, not superior to our lime-trees. Here and there on
the river banks and coasts are a few Convolvulaceae, not equal to our
garden Ipomaeas, and in the deepest shades of the forest some fine
scarlet and purple Zingiberaceae, but so few and scattered as to be
nothing amid the mass of green and flowerless vegetation. Yet the noble
Cycadaceae and screw-pines, thirty or forty feet high, the elegant tree
ferns, the lofty palms, and the variety of beautiful and curious plants
which everywhere meet the eye, attest the warmth and moisture of the
tropics, and the fertility of the soil.

It is true that Aru seemed to me exceptionally poor in flowers, but
this is only an exaggeration of a general tropical feature; for my
whole experience in the equatorial regions of the west and the east has
convinced me, that in the most luxuriant parts of the tropics, flowers
are less abundant, on the average less showy, and are far less effective
in adding colour to the landscape than in temperate climates. I have
never seen in the tropics such brilliant masses of colour as even
England can show in her furze-clad commons, her heathery mountain-sides,
her glades of wild hyacinths, her fields of poppies, her meadows of
buttercups and orchises--carpets of yellow, purple, azure-blue, and
fiery crimson, which the tropics can rarely exhibit. We, have smaller
masses of colour in our hawthorn and crab trees, our holly and
mountain-ash, our boom; foxgloves, primroses, and purple vetches, which
clothe with gay colours the whole length and breadth of our land, These
beauties are all common. They are characteristic of the country and the
climate; they have not to be sought for, but they gladden the eye at
every step. In the regions of the equator, on the other hand, whether it
be forest or savannah, a sombre green clothes universal nature. You may
journey for hours, and even for days, and meet with nothing to break the
monotony. Flowers are everywhere rare, and anything at all striking is
only to be met with at very distant intervals.

The idea that nature exhibits gay colours in the tropics, and that the
general aspect of nature is there more bright and varied in hue than
with us, has even been made the foundation of theories of art, and we
have been forbidden to use bright colours in our garments, and in the
decorations of our dwellings, because it was supposed that we should be
thereby acting in opposition to the teachings of nature. The argument
itself is a very poor one, since it might with equal justice be
maintained, that as we possess faculties for the appreciation of
colours, we should make up for the deficiencies of nature and use the
gayest tints in those regions where the landscape is most monotonous.
But the assumption on which the argument is founded is totally false,
so that even if the reasoning were valid, we need not be afraid of
outraging nature, by decorating our houses and our persons with
all those gay hues which are so lavishly spread over our fields and
mountains, our hedges, woods, and meadows.

It is very easy to see what has led to this erroneous view of the nature
of tropical vegetation. In our hothouses and at our flower-shows we
gather together the finest flowering plants from the most distant
regions of the earth, and exhibit them in a proximity to each other
which never occurs in nature. A hundred distinct plants, all with
bright, or strange, or gorgeous flowers, make a wonderful show when
brought together; but perhaps no two of these plants could ever be seen
together in a state of nature, each inhabiting a distant region or a
different station. Again, all moderately warm extra-European countries
are mixed up with the tropics in general estimation, and a vague idea
is formed that whatever is preeminently beautiful must come from
the hottest parts of the earth. But the fact is quite the contrary.
Rhododendrons and azaleas are plants of temperate regions, the grandest
lilies are from temperate Japan, and a large proportion of our most
showy flowering plants are natives of the Himalayas, of the Cape, of the
United States, of Chili, or of China and Japan, all temperate regions.
True, there are a great number of grand and gorgeous flowers in the
tropics, but the proportion they bear to the mass of the vegetation is
exceedingly small; so that what appears an anomaly is nevertheless a
fact, and the effect of flowers on the general aspect of nature is far
less in the equatorial than in the temperate regions of the earth.



CHAPTER XXXIV. NEW GUINEA.--DOREY.

(MARCH TO JULY 1858.)

AFTER my return from Gilolo to Ternate, in March 1858, I made
arrangements for my long-wished-for voyage to the mainland of New
Guinea, where I anticipated that my collections would surpass those
which I had formed at the Aru Islands. The poverty of Ternate in
articles used by Europeans was shown, by my searching in vain
through all the stores for such common things as flour, metal spoons,
wide-mouthed phials, beeswax, a penknife, and a stone or metal pestle
and mortar. I took with me four servants: my head man Ali, and a Ternate
lad named Jumaat (Friday), to shoot; Lahagi, a steady middle-aged man,
to cut timber and assist me in insect-collecting; and Loisa, a Javanese
cook. As I knew I should have to build a house at Dorey, where I was
going, I took with me eighty cadjans, or waterproof mats, made of
pandanus leaves, to cover over my baggage on first landing, and to help
to roof my house afterwards.

We started on the 25th of March in the schooner Hester Helena, belonging
to my friend Mr. Duivenboden, and bound on a trading voyage along the
north coast of New Guinea. Having calms and light airs, we were three
days reaching Gane, near the south end of Gilolo, where we stayed to
fill up our water-casks and buy a few provisions. We obtained fowls,
eggs, sago, plantains, sweet potatoes, yellow pumpkins, chilies, fish,
and dried deer's meat; and on the afternoon of the 29th proceeded on our
voyage to Dorey harbour. We found it, however, by no means easy to get
along; for so near to the equator the monsoons entirely fail of their
regularity, and after passing the southern point of Gilolo we had calms,
light puffs of wind, and contrary currents, which kept us for five days
in sight of the same islands between it and Poppa. A squall them
brought us on to the entrance of Dampier's Straits, where we were again
becalmed, and were three more days creeping through them. Several native
canoes now came off to us from Waigiou on one side, and Batanta on the
other, bringing a few common shells, palm-leaf mats, cocoa-nuts, and
pumpkins. They were very extravagant in their demands, being accustomed
to sell their trifles to whalers and China ships, whose crews will
purchase anything at ten times its value. My only purchases were a float
belonging to a turtle-spear, carved to resemble a bird, and a very well
made palm-leaf box, for which articles I gave a copper ring and a yard
of calico. The canoes were very narrow and furnished with an outrigger,
and in some of them there was only one man, who seemed to think nothing
of coming out alone eight or ten miles from shore. The people were
Papuans, much resembling the natives of Aru.

When we had got out of the Straits, and were fairly in the great Pacific
Ocean, we had a steady wind for the first time since leaving Ternate,
but unfortunately it was dead ahead, and we had to beat against it,
tacking on and off the coast of New Guinea. I looked with intense
interest on those rugged mountains, retreating ridge behind ridge into
the interior, where the foot of civilized man had never trod. There
was the country of the cassowary and the tree-kangaroo, and those dark
forests produced the most extraordinary and the most beautiful of the
feathered inhabitants of the earth--the varied species of Birds of
Paradise. A few days more and I hoped to be in pursuit of these, and of
the scarcely less beautiful insects which accompany them. We had still,
however, for several days only calms and light head-winds, and it was
not till the 10th of April that a fine westerly breeze set in, followed
by a squally night, which kept us off the entrance of Dorey harbour.
The next morning we entered, and came to anchor off the small island
of Mansinam, on which dwelt two German missionaries, Messrs. Otto and
Geisler. The former immediately came on board to give us welcome,
and invited us to go on shore and breakfast with him. We were then
introduced to his companion who was suffering dreadfully from an abscess
on the heel, which had confined him to the house for six months--and
to his wife, a young German woman, who had been out only three months.
Unfortunately she could speak no Malay or English, and had to guess at
our compliments on her excellent breakfast by the justice we did to it.

These missionaries were working men, and had been sent out, as being
more useful among savages than persons of a higher class. They had
been here about two years, and Mr. Otto had already learnt to speak the
Papuan language with fluency, and had begun translating some portions of
the Bible. The language, however, is so poor that a considerable number
of Malay words have to be used; and it is very questionable whether it
is possible to convey any idea of such a book, to a people in so low a
state of civilization. The only nominal converts yet made are a few of
the women; and some few of the children attend school, and are being
taught to read, but they make little progress. There is one feature of
this mission which I believe will materially interfere with its moral
effect. The missionaries are allowed to trade to eke out the very small
salaries granted them from Europe, and of course are obliged to carry
out the trade principle of buying cheap and selling dear, in order to
make a profit. Like all savages the natives are quite careless of the
future, and when their small rice crops are gathered they bring a large
portion of it to the missionaries, and sell it for knives, beads, axes,
tobacco, or any other articles they may require. A few months later, in
the wet season, when food is scarce, they come to buy it back again, and
give in exchange tortoiseshell, tripang, wild nutmegs, or other produce.
Of course the rice is sold at a much higher rate than it was bought, as
is perfectly fair and just--and the operation is on the whole thoroughly
beneficial to the natives, who would otherwise consume and waste their
food when it was abundant, and then starve--yet I cannot imagine that
the natives see it in this light. They must look upon the trading
missionaries with some suspicion, and cannot feel so sure of their
teachings being disinterested, as would be the case if they acted like
the Jesuits in Singapore. The first thing to be done by the missionary
in attempting to improve savages, is to convince them by his actions
that lie comes among them for their benefit only, and not for any
private ends of his own. To do this he must act in a different way from
other men, not trading and taking advantage of the necessities of those
who want to sell, but rather giving to those who are in distress. It
would be well if he conformed himself in some degree to native customs,
and then endeavoured to show how these customs might be gradually
modified, so as to be more healthful and more agreeable. A few energetic
and devoted men acting in this way might probably effect a decided moral
improvement on the lowest savage tribes, whereas trading missionaries,
teaching what Jesus said, but not doing as He did, can scarcely be
expected to do more than give them a very little of the superficial
varnish of religion.

Dorey harbour is in a fine bay, at one extremity of which an elevated
point juts out, and, with two or three small islands, forms a sheltered
anchorage. The only vessel it contained when we arrived was a Dutch
brig, laden with coals for the use of a war-steamer, which was expected
daily, on an exploring expedition along the coasts of New Guinea, for
the purpose of fixing on a locality for a colony. In the evening we paid
it a visit, and landed at the village of Dorey, to look out for a place
where I could build my house. Mr. Otto also made arrangements for me
with some of the native chiefs, to send men to cut wood, rattans, and
bamboo the next day.

The villages of Mansinam and Dorey presented some features quite new
to me. The houses all stand completely in the water, and are reached by
long rude bridges. They are very low, with the roof shaped like a large
boat, bottom upwards. The posts which support the houses, bridges, and
platforms are small crooked sticks, placed without any regularity, and
looking as if they were tumbling down. The floors are also formed of
sticks, equally irregular, and so loose and far apart that I found it
almost impossible to walls on them. The walls consist of bits of boards,
old boats, rotten mats, attaps, and palm-leaves, stuck in anyhow here
and there, and having altogether the most wretched and dilapidated
appearance it is possible to conceive. Under the eaves of many of the
houses hang human skulls, the trophies of their battles with the
savage Arfaks of the interior, who often come to attack them. A large
boat-shaped council-house is supported on larger posts, each of which
is grossly carved to represent a naked male or female human figure, and
other carvings still more revolting are placed upon the platform before
the entrance. The view of an ancient lake-dweller's village, given as
the frontispiece of Sir Charles Lyell's "Antiquity of Man," is chiefly
founded on a sketch of this very village of Dorey; but the extreme
regularity of the structures there depicted has no place in the
original, any more than it probably had in the actual lake-villages.

The people who inhabit these miserable huts are very similar to the Ke
and Aru islanders, and many of them are very handsome, being tall and
well-made, with well-cut features and large aquiline noses. Their
colour is a deep brown, often approaching closely to black, and the fine
mop-like heads of frizzly hair appear to be more common than elsewhere,
and are considered a great ornament, a long six-pronged bamboo fork
being kept stuck in them to serve the purpose of a comb; and this is
assiduously used at idle moments to keep the densely growing mass from
becoming matted and tangled. The majority have short woolly hair, which
does not seem capable of an equally luxuriant development. A growth of
hair somewhat similar to this, and almost as abundant, is found among
the half-breeds between the Indian and Negro in South America. Can this
be an indication that the Papuans are a mixed race?

For the first three days after our arrival I was fully occupied from
morning to night building a house, with the assistance of a dozen
Papuans and my own men. It was immense trouble to get our labourers to
work, as scarcely one of them could speak a word of Malay; and it was
only by the most energetic gesticulations, and going through a regular
pantomime of what was wanted, that we could get them to do anything. If
we made them understand that a few more poles were required, which two
could have easily cut, six or eight would insist upon going together,
although we needed their assistance in other things. One morning ten of
them came to work, bringing only one chopper between them, although they
knew I had none ready for use.

I chose a place about two hundred yards from the beach, on an elevated
ground, by the side of the chief path from the village of Dorey to
the provision-grounds and the forest. Within twenty yards was a little
stream; which furnished us with excellent water and a nice place to
bathe. There was only low underwood to clear away, while some fine
forest trees stood at a short distance, and we cut down the wood for
about twenty yards round to give us light and air. The house, about
twenty feet by fifteen; was built entirely of wood, with a bamboo floor,
a single door of thatch, and a large window, looking over the sea, at
which I fixed my table, and close beside it my bed, within a little
partition. I bought a number of very large palm-leaf mats of the
natives, which made excellent walls; while the mats I had brought myself
were used on the roof, and were covered over with attaps as soon as we
could get them made. Outside, and rather behind, was a little hut, used
for cooking, and a bench, roofed over, where my men could sit to skin
birds and animals. When all was finished, I had my goods and stores
brought up, arranged them conveniently inside, and then paid my Papuans
with knives and choppers, and sent them away. The next day our schooner
left for the more eastern islands, and I found myself fairly established
as the only European inhabitant of the vast island of New Guinea.

As we had some doubt about the natives, we slept at first with loaded
guns beside us and a watch set; but after a few days, finding the people
friendly, and feeling sure that they would not venture to attack five
well-armed men, we took no further precautions. We had still a day or
two's work in finishing up the house, stopping leaks, putting up our
hanging shelves for drying specimens inside and out, and making the path
down to the water, and a clear dry space in front of the horse.

On the 17th, the steamer not having arrived, the coal-ship left, having
lain here a month, according to her contract; and on the same day
my hunters went out to shoot for the first time, and brought home a
magnificent crown pigeon and a few common birds. The next day they were
more successful, and I was delighted to see them return with a Bird
of Paradise in full plumage, a pair of the fine Papuan lories (Lorius
domicella), four other lories and parroquets, a grackle (Gracula
dumonti), a king-hunter (Dacelo gaudichaudi), a racquet-tailed
kingfisher (Tanysiptera galatea), and two or three other birds of less
beauty.

I went myself to visit the native village on the hill behind Dorey, and
took with me a small present of cloth, knives, and beads, to secure the
good-will of the chief, and get him to send some men to catch or shoot
birds for me. The houses were scattered about among rudely cultivated
clearings. Two which I visited consisted of a central passage, on each
side of which opened short passages, admitting to two rooms, each of
which was a house accommodating a separate family. They were elevated at
least fifteen feet above the ground, on a complete forest of poles,
and were so rude and dilapidated that some of the small passages had
openings in the floor of loose sticks, through which a child might fall.
The inhabitants seemed rather uglier than those at Dorey village. They
are, no doubt, the true indigenes of this part of New Guinea, living in
the interior, and subsisting by cultivation and hunting. The Dorey men,
on the other hand, are shore-dwellers, fishers and traders in a small
way, and have thus the character of a colony who have migrated from
another district. These hillmen or "Arfaks" differed much in physical
features. They were generally black, but some were brown like Malays.
Their hair, though always more or less frizzly, was sometimes short and
matted, instead of being long, loose, and woolly; and this seemed to
be a constitutional difference, not the effect of care and cultivation.
Nearly half of them were afflicted with the scurfy skin-disease. The
old chief seemed much pleased with his present, and promised (through
an interpreter I brought with me) to protect my men when they came
there shooting, and also to procure me some birds and animals. While
conversing, they smoked tobacco of their own growing, in pipes cut from
a single piece of wood with a long upright handle.

We had arrived at Dorey about the end of the wet season, when the whole
country was soaked with moisture The native paths were so neglected as
to be often mere tunnels closed over with vegetation, and in such places
there was always a fearful accumulation of mud. To the naked Papuan this
is no obstruction. He wades through it, and the next watercourse makes
him clean again; but to myself, wearing boots and trousers, it was a
most disagreeable thing to have to go up to my knees in a mud-hole every
morning. The man I brought with me to cut wood fell ill soon after
we arrived, or I would have set him to clear fresh paths in the worst
places. For the first ten days it generally rained every afternoon and
all night r but by going out every hour of fine weather, I managed to
get on tolerably with my collections of birds and insects, finding most
of those collected by Lesson during his visit in the Coquille, as well
as many new ones. It appears, however, that Dorey is not the place for
Birds of Paradise, none of the natives being accustomed to preserve
them. Those sold here are all brought from Amberbaki, about a hundred
miles west, where the Doreyans go to trade.

The islands in the bay, with the low lands near the coast, seem to have
been formed by recently raised coral reef's, and are much strewn with
masses of coral but little altered. The ridge behind my house, which
runs out to the point, is also entirely coral rock, although there are
signs of a stratified foundation in the ravines, and the rock itself is
more compact and crystalline. It is therefore, probably older, a more
recent elevation having exposed the low grounds and islands. On the
other side of the bay rise the great mass of the Arfak mountains,
said by the French navigators to be about ten thousand feet high, and
inhabited by savage tribes. These are held in great dread by the Dorey
people, who have often been attacked and plundered by them, and have
some of their skulls hanging outside their houses. If I was seem going
into the forest anywhere in the direction of the mountains, the little
boys of the village would shout after me, "Arfaki! Arfaki?" just as they
did after Lesson nearly forty years before.

On the 15th of May the Dutch war-steamer Etna arrived; but, as the coals
had gone, it was obliged to stay till they came back. The captain knew
when the coalship was to arrive, and how long it was chartered to stay
at Dorey, and could have been back in time, but supposed it would wait
for him, and so did not hurry himself. The steamer lay at anchor just
opposite my house, and I had the advantage of hearing the half-hourly
bells struck, which was very pleasant after the monotonous silence
of the forest. The captain, doctor, engineer, and some other of the
officers paid me visits; the servants came to the brook to wash clothes,
and the son of the Prince of Tidore, with one or two companions, to
bathe; otherwise I saw little of them, and was not disturbed by visitors
so much as I had expected to be. About this time the weather set in
pretty fine, but neither birds nor insects became much more abundant,
and new birds-were very scarce. None of the Birds of Paradise except the
common one were ever met with, and we were still searching in vain for
several of the fine birds which Lesson had obtained here. Insects were
tolerably abundant, but were not on the average so fine as those of
Amboyna, and I reluctantly came to the conclusion that Dorey was not a
good collecting locality. Butterflies were very scarce, and were mostly
the same as those which I had obtained at Aru.

Among the insects of other orders, the most curious and novel were
a group of horned flies, of which I obtained four distinct species,
settling on fallen trees and decaying trunks. These remarkable insects,
which have been described by Mr. W. W. Saunders as a new genus, under
the name of Elaphomia or deer-flies, are about half an inch long,
slender-bodied, and with very long legs, which they draw together so as
to elevate their bodies high above the surface they are standing upon.
The front pair of legs are much shorter, and these are often stretched
directly forwards, so as to resemble antenna. The horns spring from
beneath the eye, and seem to be a prolongation of the lower part of
the orbit. In the largest and most singular species, named Elaphomia
cervicornis or the stag-horned deer-fly, these horns are nearly as
long as the body, having two branches, with two small snags near their
bifurcation, so as to resemble the horns of a stag. They are black, with
the tips pale, while the body and legs are yellowish brown, and the eyes
(when alive) violet and green. The next species (Elaphomia wallacei) is
of a dark brown colour, banded and spotted with yellow. The horns
are about one-third the length of the insect, broad, flat, and of an
elongated triangular foam. They are of a beautiful pink colour, edged
with black, and with a pale central stripe. The front part of the head
is also pink, and the eyes violet pink, with a green stripe across them,
giving the insect a very elegant and singular appearance. The third
species (Elaphomia alcicornis, the elk-horned deer-fly) is a little
smaller than the two already described, but resembling in colour
Elaphomia wallacei. The horns are very remarkable, being suddenly
dilated into a flat plate, strongly toothed round the outer margin,
and strikingly resembling the horns of the elk, after which it has been
named. They are of a yellowish colour, margined with brown, and tipped
with black on the three upper teeth. The fourth species (Elaphomia
brevicornis, the short-horned deer-fly) differs considerably from the
rest. It is stouter in form, of a nearly black colour, with a yellow
ring at the base of the abdomen; the wings have dusky stripes, and the
head is compressed and dilated laterally, with very small flat horns;
which are black with a pale centre, and look exactly like the rudiment
of the horns of the two preceding species. None of the females have any
trace of the horns, and Mr. Saunders places in the same genus a species
which has no horns in either sex (Elaphomia polita). It is of a shining
black colour, and resembles Elaphomia cervicornis in form, size, and
general appearance. The figures above given represent these insects of
their natural size and in characteristic attitudes.

The natives seldom brought me anything. They are poor creatures, and,
rarely shoot a bird, pig, or kangaroo, or even the sluggish opossum-like
Cuscus. The tree-kangaroos are found here, but must be very scarce,
as my hunters, although out daily in the forest, never once saw them.
Cockatoos, lories, and parroquets were really the only common
birds. Even pigeons were scarce, and in little variety, although we
occasionally got the fine crown pigeon, which was always welcome as an
addition to our scantily furnished larder.

Just before the steamer arrived I had wounded my ankle by clambering
among the trunks and branches of fallen trees (which formed my best
hunting grounds for insects), and, as usual with foot wounds in this
climate, it turned into an obstinate ulcer, keeping me in the house
for several days. When it healed up it was followed by an internal
inflammation of the foot, which by the doctor's advice I poulticed
incessantly for four or five days, bringing out a severe inflamed
swelling on the tendon above the heel. This had to be leeched, and
lanced, and doctored with ointments and poultices for several weeks,
till I was almost driven to despair,--for the weather was at length
fine, and I was tantalized by seeing grand butterflies flying past my
door, and thinking of the twenty or thirty new species of insects that
I ought to be getting every day. And this, too, in New Guinea--a country
which I might never visit again,--a country which no naturalist had ever
resided in before,--a country which contained more strange and new
and beautiful natural objects than any other part of the globe. The
naturalist will be able to appreciate my feelings, sitting from morning
to night in my little hut, unable to move without a crutch, and my only
solace the birds my hunters brought in every afternoon, and the few
insects caught by my Ternate man, Lahagi, who now went out daily in my
place, but who of course did not get a fourth part of what I should have
obtained. To add to my troubles all my men were more or less ill, some
with fever, others with dysentery or ague; at one time there were three
of them besides myself all helpless, the coon alone being well, and
having enough to do to wait upon us. The Prince of Tidore and the
Resident of Panda were both on board the steamer, and were seeking Birds
of Paradise, sending men round in every direction, so that there was
no chance of my getting even native skins of the rarer kinds; and any
birds, insects, or animals the Dorey people had to sell were taken on
board the steamer, where purchasers were found for everything, and where
a larger variety of articles were offered in exchange than I had to
show.

After a month's close confinement in the house I was at length able to
go out a little, and about the same time I succeeded in getting a boat
and six natives to take Ali and Lahagi to Amberbaki, and to bring them
back at the end of a month. Ali was charged to buy all the Birds of
Paradise he could get, and to shoot and skin all other rare or new
birds; and Lahagi was to collect insects, which I hoped might be more
abundant than at Dorey. When I recommenced my daily walks in search
of insects, I found a great change in the neighbourhood, and one very
agreeable to me. All the time I had been laid up the ship's crew and the
Javanese soldiers who had been brought in a tender (a sailing ship
which had arrived soon after the Etna), had been employed cutting down,
sawing, and splitting large trees for firewood, to enable the steamer to
get back to Amboyna if the coal-ship did not return; and they had also
cleared a number of wide, straight paths through the forest in various
directions, greatly to the astonishment of the natives, who could not
make out what it all meant. I had now a variety of walks, and a good
deal of dead wood on which to search for insects; but notwithstanding
these advantages, they were not nearly so plentiful as I had found them
at Sarawak, or Amboyna, or Batchian, confirming my opinion that Dorey
was not a good locality. It is quite probable, however, that at a
station a few miles in the interior, away from the recently elevated
coralline rocks and the influence of the sea air, a much more abundant
harvest might be obtained.

One afternoon I went on board the steamer to return the captain's visit,
and was shown some very nice sketches (by one of the lieutenants), made
on the south coast, and also at the Arfak mountain, to which they had
made an excursion. From these and the captain's description, it appeared
that the people of Arfak were similar to those of Dorey, and I could
hear nothing of the straight-haired race which Lesson says inhabits the
interior, but which no one has ever seen, and the account of which I
suspect has originated in some mistake. The captain told me he had made
a detailed survey of part of the south coast, and if the coal arrived
should go away at once to Humboldt Pay, in longitude 141° east, which is
the line up to which the Dutch claim New Guinea. On board the tender
I found a brother naturalist, a German named Rosenberg, who was
draughtsman to the surveying staff. He had brought two men with him to
shoot and skin birds, and had been able to purchase a few rare skins
from the natives. Among these was a pair of the superb Paradise Pie
(Astrapia nigra) in tolerable preservation. They were brought from the
island of Jobie, which may be its native country, as it certainly is
of the rarer species of crown pigeon (Goura steursii), one of which was
brought alive and sold on board. Jobie, however, is a very dangerous
place, and sailors are often murdered there when on shore; sometimes the
vessels themselves being attacked. Wandammen, on the mainland opposite
Jobie, inhere there are said to be plenty of birds, is even worse, and
at either of these places my life would not have been worth a week's
purchase had I ventured to live alone and unprotected as at Dorey. On
board the steamer they had a pair of tree kangaroos alive. They differ
chiefly from the ground-kangaroo in having a more hairy tail, not
thickened at the base, and not used as a prop; and by the powerful claws
on the fore-feet, by which they grasp the bark and branches, and seize
the leaves on which they feed. They move along by short jumps on their
hind-feet, which do not seem particularly well adapted for climbing
trees. It has been supposed that these tree-kangaroos are a special
adaptation to the swampy, half-drowned forests of, New Guinea, in place
of the usual form of the group, which is adapted only to dry ground. Mr.
Windsor Earl makes much of this theory, but, unfortunately for it,
the tree-kangaroos are chiefly found in the northern peninsula of New
Guinea, which is entirely composed of hills and mountains with very
little flat land, while the kangaroo of the low flat Aru Islands
(Dorcopsis asiaticus) is a ground species. A more probable supposition
seems to lie, that the tree-kangaroo has been modified to enable it to
feed on foliage in the vast forests of New Guinea, as these form the
great natural feature which distinguishes that country from Australia.

On June 5th, the coal-ship arrived, having been sent back from Amboyna,
with the addition of some fresh stores for the steamer. The wood, which
had been almost all taken on board, was now unladen again, the coal
taken in, and on the 17th both steamer and tender left for Humboldt Bay.
We were then a little quiet again, and got something to eat; for while
the vessels were here every bit of fish or vegetable was taken on board,
and I had often to make a small parroquet serve for two meals. My men
now returned from Amberbaki, but, alas brought me almost nothing. They
had visited several villages, and even went two days' journey into the
interior, but could find no skins of Birds of Paradise to purchase,
except the common kind, and very few even of those. The birds found
were the same as at Dorey, but were still scarcer. None of the natives
anywhere near the coast shoot or prepare Birds of Paradise, which come
from far in the interior over two or three ranges of mountains, passing
by barter from village to village till they reach the sea. There the
natives of Dorey buy them, and on their return home sell them to the
Bugis or Ternate traders. It is therefore hopeless for a traveller to go
to any particular place on the coast of New Guinea where rare Paradise
birds may have been bought, in hopes of obtaining freshly killed
specimens from the natives; and it also shows the scarcity of these
birds in any one locality, since from the Amberbaki district, a
celebrated place, where at least five or six species have been procured,
not one of the rarer ones has been obtained this year. The Prince of
Tidore, who would certainly have got them if any were to be had, was
obliged to put up with a few of the common yellow ones. I think it
probable that a longer residence at Dorey, a little farther in the
interior, might show that several of the rarer kinds were found there,
as I obtained a single female of the fine scale-breasted Ptiloris
magnificus. I was told at Ternate of a bird that is certainly not yet
known in Europe, a black King Paradise Bird, with the curled tail and
beautiful side plumes of the common species, but all the rest of the
plumage glossy black. The people of Dorey knew nothing about this,
although they recognised by description most of the otter species.

When the steamer left, I was suffering from a severe attack of fever. In
about a week I got over this, but it was followed by such a soreness of
the whole inside of the mouth, tongue, and gums, that for many days
I could put nothing solid between my lips, but was obliged to subsist
entirely on slops, although in other respects very well. At the same
time two of my men again fell ill, one with fever, the other with
dysentery, and both got very bad. I did what I could for them with my
small stock of medicines, but they lingered on for some weeks, till
on June 26th poor Jumaat died. He was about eighteen years of age, a
native, I believe, of Bouton, and a quiet lad, not very active, but
doing his work pretty steadily, and as well as he was able. As my men
were all Mahometans, I let them bury him in their own fashion, giving
them some new cotton cloth for a shroud.

On July 6th the steamer returned from the eastward. The weather was
still terribly wet, when, according to rule, it should have been fine
and dry. We had scarcely anything to eat, and were all of us ill.
Fevers, colds, and dysentery were continually attacking us, and made me
long I-o get away from New Guinea, as much as ever I had longed to
come there. The captain of the Etna paid me a visit, and gave me a very
interesting account of his trip. They had stayed at Humboldt Bay several
days, and found it a much more beautiful and more interesting place
than Dorey, as well as a better harbour. The natives were quite
unsophisticated, being rarely visited except by stray whalers, and they
were superior to the Dorey people, morally and physically. They went
quite naked. Their houses were some in the water and some inland, and
were all neatly and well built; their fields were well cultivated,
and the paths to them kept clear and open, in which respects Dorey is
abominable. They were shy at first, and opposed the boats with hostile
demonstrations, beading their bows, and intimating that they would shoot
if an attempt was made to land. Very judiciously the captain gave way,
but threw on shore a few presents, and after two or three trials they
were permitted to land, and to go about and see the country, and were
supplied with fruits and vegetables. All communication was carried on
with them by signs--the Dorey interpreter, who accompanied the steamer,
being unable to understand a word of their language. No new birds or
animals were obtained, but in their ornaments the feathers of Paradise
birds were seen, showing, as might be expected, that these birds range
far in this direction, and probably all over New Guinea.

It is curious that a rudimental love of art should co-exist with such
a very low state of civilization. The people of Dorey are great carvers
and painters. The outsides of the houses, wherever there is a plank, are
covered with rude yet characteristic figures. The high-peaked prows of
their boats are ornamented with masses of open filagree work, cut out
of solid blocks of wood, and often of very tasteful design, As a
figurehead, or pinnacle, there is often a human figure, with a head
of cassowary feathers to imitate the Papuan "mop." The floats of their
fishing-lines, the wooden beaters used in tempering the clay for their
pottery, their tobacco-boxes, and other household articles, are covered
with carving of tasteful and often elegant design. Did we not already
know that such taste and skill are compatible with utter barbarism, we
could hardly believe that the same people are, in other matters, utterly
wanting in all sense of order, comfort, or decency. Yet such is the
case. They live in the most miserable, crazy, and filthy hovels, which
are utterly destitute of anything that can be called furniture; not a
stool, or bench, or board is seen in them, no brush seems to be known,
and the clothes they wear are often filthy bark, or rags, or sacking.
Along the paths where they daily pass to and from their provision
grounds, not an overhanging bough or straggling briar ever seems to be
cut, so that you have to brush through a rank vegetation, creep under
fallen trees and spiny creepers, and wade through pools of mud and mire,
which cannot dry up because the sun is not allowed to penetrate. Their
food is almost wholly roots and vegetables, with fish or game only as
an occasional luxury, and they are consequently very subject to various
skin diseases, the children especially being often miserable-looking
objects, blotched all over with eruptions and sores. If these people are
not savages, where shall we find any? Yet they have all a decided love
for the fine arts, and spend their leisure time in executing works whose
good taste and elegance would often be admired in our schools of design!

During the latter part of my stay in New Guinea the weather was very
wet, my only shooter was ill, and birds became scarce, so that my only
resource was insect-hunting. I worked very hard every hour of fine
weather, and daily obtained a number of new species. Every dead tree
and fallen log was searched and searched again; and among the dry and
rotting leaves, which still hung on certain trees which had been cut
down, I found an abundant harvest of minute Coleoptera. Although I never
afterwards found so many large and handsome beetles as in Borneo, yet
I obtained here a great variety of species. For the first two or three
weeks, while I was searching out the best localities, I took about 30
different kinds of beetles n day, besides about half that number of
butterflies, and a few of the other orders. But afterwards, up to the
very last week, I averaged 49 species a day. On the 31st of May, I took
78 distinct sorts, a larger number than I had ever captured before,
principally obtained among dead trees and under rotten bark. A good long
walk on a fine day up the hill, and to the plantations of the natives,
capturing everything not very common that came in my way, would produce
about 60 species; but on the last day of June I brought home no less
than 95 distinct kinds of beetles, a larger number than I ever obtained
in one day before or since. It was a fine hot day, and I devoted it to
a search among dead leaves, beating foliage, and hunting under rotten
bark, in all the best stations I had discovered during my walks. I was
out from ten in the morning till three in the afternoon, and it took
me six hours' work at home to pin and set out all the specimens, and
to separate the species. Although T had already been working this shot
daily for two months and a half, and had obtained over 800 species
of Coleoptera, this day's work added 32 new ones. Among these were 4
Longicorns, 2 Caribidae, 7 Staphylinidae, 7 Curculionidae, 2 Copridae, 4
Chrysomelidae, 3 Heteromera, 1 Elates, and 1 Buprestis. Even on the last
day I went out, I obtained 10 new species; so that although I collected
over a thousand distinct sorts of beetles in a space not much exceeding
a square mile during the three months of my residence at Dorey, I cannot
believe that this represents one half the species really inhabiting the
same spot, or a fourth of what might be obtained in an area extending
twenty miles in each direction.

On the 22d of July the schooner Hester Helena arrived, and five days
afterwards we bade adieu to Dorey, without much regret, for in no place
which I have visited have I encountered more privations and annoyances.
Continual rain, continual sickness, little wholesome food, with a plague
of ants and files, surpassing anything I had before met with, required
all a naturalist's ardour to encounter; and when they were uncompensated
by great success in collecting, became all the more insupportable. This
long thought-of and much-desired voyage to New Guinea had realized none
of my expectations. Instead of being far better than the Aru Islands, it
was in almost everything much worse. Instead of producing several of
the rarer Paradise birds, I had not even seen one of them, and had
not obtained any one superlatively fine bird or insect. I cannot deny,
however, that Dorey was very rich in ants. One small black kind was
excessively abundant. Almost every shrub and tree was more or less
infested with it, and its large papery nests were everywhere to be seen.
They immediately took possession of my house, building a large nest
in the roof, and forming papery tunnels down almost every post. They
swarmed on my table as I was at work setting out my insects, carrying
them off from under my very nose, and even tearing them from the cards
on which they were gummed if I left them for an instant. They crawled
continually over my hands and face, got into my hair, and roamed at will
over my whole body, not producing much inconvenience till they began
to bite, which they would do on meeting with any obstruction to their
passage, and with a sharpness which made me jump again and rush to
undress and turn out the offender. They visited my bed also, so that
night brought no relief from their persecutions; and I verily believe
that during my three and a half months' residence at Dorey I was never
for a single hour entirely free from them. They were not nearly so
voracious as many other kinds, but their numbers and ubiquity rendered
it necessary to be constantly on guard against them.

The flies that troubled me most were a large kind of blue-bottle or
blow-fly. These settled in swarms on my bird skins when first put out to
dry, filling their plumage with masses of eggs, which, if neglected, the
next day produced maggots. They would get under the wings or under the
body where it rested on the drying-board, sometimes actually raising it
up half an inch by the mass of eggs deposited in a few hours; and every
egg was so firmly glued to the fibres of the feathers, as to make it
a work of much time and patience to get them off without injuring the
bird. In no other locality have I ever been troubled with such a plague
as this.

On the 29th we left Dorey, and expected a quick voyage home, as it was
the time of year when we ought to have had steady southerly and easterly
winds. Instead of these, however, we had calms and westerly breezes,
and it was seventeen days before we reached Ternate, a distance of five
hundred miles only, which, with average winds, could have been done in
five days. It was a great treat to me to find myself back again in my
comfortable house, enjoying milk to my tea and coffee, fresh bread and
butter, and fowl and fish daily for dinner. This New Guinea voyage had
used us all up, and I determined to stay and recruit before I commenced
any fresh expeditions. My succeeding journeys to Gilolo and Batchian
have already been narrated, and if; now only remains for me to give an
account of my residence in Waigiou, the last Papuan territory I visited
in search of Birds of Paradise.



CHAPTER XXXV. VOYAGE FROM CERAM TO WAIGIOU.

(JUNE AND JULY 1860.)

IN my twenty-fifth chapter I have described my arrival at Wahai, on my
way to Mysol and Waigiou, islands which belong to the Papuan district,
and the account of which naturally follows after that of my visit to the
mainland of New Guinea. I now take up my narrative at my departure from
Wahai, with the intention of carrying various necessary stores to my
assistant, Mr. Allen, at Silinta, in Mysol, and then continuing my
journey to Waigiou. It will be remembered that I was travelling in a
small prau, which I had purchased and fitted up in Goram, and that,
having been deserted by my crew on the coast of Ceram, I had obtained
four men at Wahai, who, with my Amboynese hunter, constituted my crew.

Between Ceram and Mysol there are sixty miles of open sea, and along
this wide channel the east monsoon blows strongly; so that with native
praus, which will not lay up to the wind, it requires some care in
crossing. In order to give ourselves sufficient leeway, we sailed back
from Wahai eastward, along the coast of Ceram, with the land-breeze; but
in the morning (June 18th) had not gone nearly so far as I expected.
My pilot, an old and experienced sailor, named Gurulampoko, assured me
there was a current setting to the eastward, and that we could easily
lay across to Silinta, in Mysol. As we got out from the land the wind
increased, and there was a considerable sea, which made my short little
vessel plunge and roll about violently. By sunset we had not got
halfway across, but could see Mysol distinctly. All night we went along
uneasily, and at daybreak, on looking out anxiously, I found that we had
fallen much to the westward during the night, owing, no doubt, to the
pilot being sleepy and not keeping the boat sufficiently close to the
wind. We could see the mountains distinctly, but it was clear we should
not reach Silinta, and should have some difficulty in getting to the
extreme westward point of the island. The sea was now very boisterous,
and our prau was continually beaten to leeward by the waves, and after
another weary day we found w e could not get to Mysol at all, but might
perhaps reach the island called Pulo Kanary, about ten miles to the
north-west. Thence we might await a favourable wind to reach Waigamma,
on the north side of the island, and visit Allen by means of a small
boat.

About nine o'clock at night, greatly to my satisfaction, we got under
the lea of this island, into quite smooth water--for I had been very
sick and uncomfortable, and had eaten scarcely anything since the
preceding morning. We were slowly nearing the shore, which the smooth
dark water told us we could safely approach; and were congratulating
ourselves on soon being at anchor, with the prospect of hot coffee, a
good supper, and a sound sleep, when the wind completely dropped, and we
had to get out the oars to row. We were not more than two hundred yards
from the shore, when I noticed that we seemed to get no nearer although
the men were rowing hard, but drifted to the westward, and the prau
would not obey the helm, but continually fell off, and gave us much
trouble to bring her up again. Soon a laud ripple of water told us we
were seized by one of those treacherous currents which so frequently
frustrate all the efforts of the voyager in these seas; the men threw
down the oars in despair, and in a few minutes we drifted to leeward
of the island fairly out to sea again, and lost our last chance of ever
reaching Mysol! Hoisting our jib, we lay to, and in the morning found
ourselves only a few miles from the island, but wit, such a steady wind
blowing from its direction as to render it impossible for us to get back
to it.

We now made sail to the northward, hoping soon to get a more southerly
wind. Towards noon the sea was much smoother, and with a S.S.E. wind we
were laying in the direction of Salwatty, which I hoped to reach, as
I could there easily get a boat to take provisions and stores to my
companion in Mysol. This wind did not, however, last long, but died away
into a calm; and a light west wind springing up, with a dark bank of
clouds, again gave us hopes of reaching Mysol. We were soon, however,
again disappointed. The E.S.E. wind began to blow again with violence,
and continued all night in irregular gusts, and with a short cross sea
tossed us about unmercifully, and so continually took our sails aback,
that we were at length forced to run before it with our jib only, to
escape being swamped by our heavy mainsail. After another miserable and
anxious night, we found that we had drifted westward of the island of
Poppa, and the wind being again a little southerly, we made all sail
in order to reach it. This we did not succeed in doing, passing to the
north-west, when the wind again blew hard from the E.S.E., and our last
hope of finding a refuge till better weather was frustrated. This was a
very serious matter to me, as I could not tell how Charles Allen might
act, if, after waiting in vain for me, he should return to Wahai, and
find that I had left there long before, and had not since been heard
of. Such an event as our missing an island forty miles long would hardly
occur to him, and he would conclude either that our boat had foundered,
or that my crew had murdered me and run away with her. However, as it
was physically impossible now for me to reach him, the only thing to be
done was to make the best of my way to Waigiou, and trust to our meeting
some traders, who might convey to him the news of my safety.

Finding on my map a group of three small islands, twenty-five miles
north of Poppa, I resolved, if possible, to rest there a day or two. We
could lay our boat's head N.E. by N.; but a heavy sea from the eastward
so continually beat us off our course, and we made so much leeway,
that I found it would be as much as we could do to reach them. It was a
delicate point to keep our head in the best direction, neither so close
to the wind as to stop our way, or so free as to carry us too far to
leeward. I continually directed the steersman myself, and by incessant
vigilance succeeded, just at sunset, in bringing our boat to an anchor
under the lee of the southern point of one of the islands. The anchorage
was, however, by no means good, there being a fringing coral reef, dry
at low water, beyond which, on a bottom strewn with masses of coral, we
were obliged to anchor. We had now been incessantly tossing about for
four days in our small undecked boat, with constant disappointments
and anxiety, and it was a great comfort to have a night of quiet and
comparative safety. My old pilot had never left the helm for more than
an hour at a time, when one of the others would relieve him for a little
sleep; so I determined the next morning to look out for a secure and
convenient harbour, and rest on shore for a day.

In the morning, finding it would be necessary for us to get round a
rocky point, I wanted my men to go on shore and cut jungle-rope, by
which to secure us from being again drafted away, as the wind was
directly off shore. I unfortunately, however, allowed myself to be
overruled by the pilot and crew, who all declared that it was the
easiest thing possible, and that they would row the boat round the point
in a few minutes. They accordingly got up the anchor, set the jib, and
began rowing; but, just as I had feared, we drifted rapidly off shore,
and had to drop anchor again in deeper water, and much farther off. The
two best men, a Papuan and a Malay now swam on shore, each carrying a
hatchet, and went into the jungle to seek creepers for rope. After
about an hour our anchor loosed hold, and began to drag. This alarmed
me greatly, and we let go our spare anchor, and, by running out all our
cable, appeared tolerably secure again. We were now most anxious for the
return of the men, and were going to fire our muskets to recall them,
when we observed them on the beach, some way off, and almost immediately
our anchors again slipped, and we drifted slowly away into deep water.
We instantly seized the oars, but found we could not counteract the wind
and current, and our frantic cries to the men were not heard till we had
got a long way off; as they seemed to be hunting for shell-fish on
the beach. Very soon, however, they stared at us, and in a few minutes
seemed to comprehend their situation; for they rushed down into the
water, as if to swim off, but again returned on shore, as if afraid to
make the attempt. We had drawn up our anchors at first not to check our
rowing; but now, finding we could do nothing, we let them both hang down
by the full length of the cables. This stopped our way very much, and we
drifted from shore very slowly, and hoped the men would hastily form a
raft, or cut down a soft-wood tree, and paddle out, to us, as we were
still not more than a third of a mile from shore. They seemed, however,
to have half lost their senses, gesticulating wildly to us, running
along the beach, then going unto the forest; and just when we thought
they had prepared some mode of making an attempt to reach us, we saw
the smoke of a fire they had made to cook their shell-fish! They had
evidently given up all idea of coming after us, and we were obliged to
look to our own position.

We were now about a mile from shore, and midway between two of the
islands, but we were slowly drifting out, to sea to the westward, and
our only chance of yet saving the men was to reach the opposite shore.
We therefore sot our jib and rowed hard; but the wind failed, and we
drifted out so rapidly that we had some difficulty in reaching the
extreme westerly point of the island. Our only sailor left, then
swam ashore with a rope, and helped to tow us round the point into a
tolerably safe and secure anchorage, well sheltered from the wind, but
exposed to a little swell which jerked our anchor and made us rather
uneasy. We were now in a sad plight, having lost our two best men, and
being doubtful if we had strength left to hoist our mainsail. We had
only two days' water on board, and the small, rocky, volcanic island
did not promise us much chance of finding any. The conduct of the men on
shore was such as to render it doubtful if they would make any serious
attempt to reach us, though they might easily do so, having two good
choppers, with which in a day they could male a small outrigger raft on
which they could safely cross the two miles of smooth sea with the wind
right aft, if they started from the east end of the island, so as to
allow for the current. I could only hope they would be sensible enough
to make the attempt, and determined to stay as long as I could to give
them the chance.

We passed an anxious night, fearful of again breaking our anchor or
rattan cable. In the morning (23d), finding all secure, I waded on shore
with my two men, leaving the old steersman and the cook on board, with
a loaded musketto recall us if needed. We first walked along the beach,
till stopped by the vertical cliffs at the east end of the island,
finding a place where meat had been smoked, a turtle-shell still greasy,
and some cut wood, the leaves of which were still green, showing that
some boat had been here very recently. We then entered the jungle,
cutting our way up to the top of the hill, but when we got there could
see nothing, owing to the thickness of the forest. Returning, we cut
some bamboos, and sharpened them to dig for water in a low spot where
some sago-trees were growing; when, just as we were going to begin, Hoi,
the Wahai man, called out to say he had found water. It was a deep hole
among the Sago trees, in stiff black clay, full of water, which was
fresh, but smelt horribly from the quantity of dead leaves and sago
refuse that had fallen in. Hastily concluding that it was a spring, or
that the water had filtered in, we baled it all out as well as a dozen
or twenty buckets of mud and rubbish, hoping by night to have a good
supply of clean water. I then went on board to breakfast, leaving my two
men to make a bamboo raft to carry us on shore and back without wading.
I had scarcely finished when our cable broke, and we bumped against
the rocks. Luckily it was smooth and calm, and no damage was done. We
searched for and got up our anchor, and found teat the cable had been
cut by grating all night upon the coral. Had it given way in the night,
we might have drifted out to sea without our anchor, or been seriously
damaged. In the evening we went to fetch water from the well, when,
greatly to our dismay, we found nothing but a little liquid mud at the
bottom, and it then became evident that the hole was one which had been
made to collect rain water, and would never fill again as long as the
present drought continued. As we did not know what we might suffer for
want of water, we filled our jar with this muddy stuff so that it might
settle. In the afternoon I crossed over to the other side of the island,
and made a large fire, in order that our men might see we were still
there.

The next day (24th) I determined to have another search for water; and
when the tide was out rounded a rocky point and went to the extremity of
the island without finding any sign of the smallest stream. On our way
back, noticing a very small dry bed of a watercourse, I went up it to
explore, although everything was so dry that my men loudly declared it
was useless to expect water there; but a little way up I was rewarded by
finding a few pints in a small pool. We searched higher up in every hole
and channel where water marks appeared, but could find not a drop more.
Sending one of my men for a large jar and teacup, we searched along the
beach till we found signs of another dry watercourse, and on ascending
this were so fortunate as to discover two deep sheltered rock-holes
containing several gallons of water, enough to fill all our jars. When
the cup came we enjoyed a good drink of the cool pure water, and before
we left had carried away, I believe, every drop on the island.

In the evening a good-sized prau appeared in sight, making apparently
for the island where our men were left, and we had some hopes they might
be seen and picked up, but it passed along mid-channel, and did not
notice the signals we tried to make. I was now, however, pretty easy as
to the fate of the men. There was plenty of sago on our rocky island,
and there world probably be some on the fiat one they were left on. They
had choppers, and could cut down a tree and make sago, and would most
likely find sufficient water by digging. Shell-fish were abundant,
and they would be able to manage very well till some boat should touch
there, or till I could send and fetch them. The next day we devoted to
cutting wood, filling up our jars with all the water we could find,
and making ready to sail in the evening. I shot a small lory closely
resembling a common species at Ternate, and a glossy starling
which differed from the allied birds of Ceram and Matabello. Large
wood-pigeons and crows were the only other birds I saw, but I did not
obtain specimens.

About eight in the evening of June 25th we started, and found that with
all hands at work we could just haul up our mainsail. We had a fair wind
during the night and sailed north-east, finding ourselves in the morning
about twenty miles west of the extremity of Waigiou with a number of
islands intervening. About ten o'clock we ran full on to a coral reef,
which alarmed us a good deal, but luckily got safe off again. About two
in the afternoon we reached an extensive coral reef, and were sailing
close alongside of it, when the wind suddenly dropped, and we drifted on
to it before we could get in our heavy mainsail, which we were obliged
to let run down and fall partly overboard. We had much difficulty in
getting off, but at last got into deep water again, though with reefs
and islands all around us. At night we did not know what to do, as no
one on board could tell where we were or what dangers might surround us,
the only one of our crew who was acquainted with the coast of Waigiou
having been left on the island. We therefore took in all sail and
allowed ourselves to drift, as we were some miles from the nearest
land. A light breeze, however, sprang up, and about midnight we found
ourselves again bumping over a coral reef. As it was very dark, and we
knew nothing of our position, we could only guess how to get off again,
and had there been a little more wind we might have been knocked to
pieces. However, in about half an hour we did get off, and then thought
it best to anchor on the edge of the reef till morning. Soon after
daylight on the 7th, finding our prau had received no damage, we sailed
on with uncertain winds and squalls, threading our way among islands
and reefs, and guided only by a small map, which was very incorrect
and quite useless, and by a general notion of the direction we ought
to take. In the afternoon we found a tolerable anchorage under a small
island and stayed for the night, and I shot a large fruit-pigeon new to
me, which I have since named Carpophaga tumida. I also saw and shot at
the rare white-headed kingfisher (Halcyon saurophaga), but did not kill
it. The next morning we sailed on, and having a fair wind reached the
shores of the large island of Waigiou. On rounding a point we again ran
full on to a coral reef with our mainsail up, but luckily the wind had
almost died away, and with a good deal of exertion we managed get safely
off.

We now had to search for the narrow channel among islands, which we knew
was somewhere hereabouts, and which leads to the villages on the south
side of Waigiou. Entering a deep bay which looked promising, we got to
the end of it, but it was then dusk, so we anchored for the night, and
having just finished all our water could cook no rice for supper. Next
morning early (29th) we went on shore among the mangroves, and a little
way inland found some water, which relieved our anxiety considerably,
and left us free to go along the coast in search of the opening, or of
some one who could direct us to it. During the three days we had now
been among the reefs and islands, we had only seen a single small canoe,
which had approached pretty near to us, and then, notwithstanding our
signals, went off in another direction. The shores seemed all desert;
not a house, or boat, or human being, or a puff of smoke was to be seen;
and as we could only go on the course that the ever-changing wind would
allow us (our hands being too few to row any distance), our prospects of
getting to our destination seemed rather remote and precarious. Having
gone to the eastward extremity of the deep bay we had entered, without
finding any sign of an opening, we turned westward; and towards evening
were so fortunate as to find a small village of seven miserable houses
built on piles in the water. Luckily the Orang-kaya, or head man, could
speak a little. Malay, and informed us that the entrance to the strait
was really in the bay we had examined, but that it was not to be seen
except when close inshore. He said the strait was often very narrow, and
wound among lakes and rocks and islands, and that it would take two days
to reach the large village of Muka, and three more to get to Waigiou. I
succeeded in hiring two men to go with us to Muka, bringing a small boat
in which to return; but we had to wait a day for our guides, so I took
my gun and made a little excursion info the forest. The day was wet and
drizzly, and I only succeeded in shooting two small birds, but I saw the
great black cockatoo, and had a glimpse of one or two Birds of Paradise,
whose loud screams we had heard on first approaching the coast. Leaving
the village the next morning (July 1st) with a light wind, it took us
all day to reach the entrance to the channel, which resembled a small
river, and was concealed by a projecting point, so that it was no wonder
we did not discover it amid the dense forest vegetation which everywhere
covers these islands to the water's edge. A little way inside it becomes
bounded by precipitous rocks, after winding among which for about two
miles, we emerged into what seemed a lake, but which was in fact a deep
gulf having a narrow entrance on the south coast. This gulf was studded
along its shores with numbers of rocky islets, mostly mushroom shaped,
from the `eater having worn away the lower part of the soluble coralline
limestone, leaving them overhanging from ten to twenty feet. Every islet
was covered will strange-looping shrubs and trees, and was generally
crowned by lofty and elegant palms, which also studded the ridges of
the mountainous shores, forming one of the most singular and picturesque
landscapes I have ever seen. The current which had brought us through
the narrow strait now ceased, and we were obliged to row, which with our
short and heavy prau was slow work. I went on shore several times, but
the rocks were so precipitous, sharp, and honeycombed, that I found
it impossible to get through the tangled thicket with which they were
everywhere clothed. It took us three days to get to the entrance of the
gulf, and then the wind was such as to prevent our going any further,
and we might have had to wait for days or weeps, when, much to my
surprise and gratification, a boat arrived from Muka with one of the
head men, who had in some mysterious manner heard I was on my way,
and had come to my assistance, bringing a present of cocoa-nuts and
vegetables. Being thoroughly acquainted with the coast, and having
several extra men to assist us, he managed to get the prau along by
rowing, poling, or sailing, and by night had brought us safely into
harbour, a great relief after our tedious and unhappy voyage. We had
been already eight days among the reefs and islands of Waigiou, coming
a distance of about fifty miles, and it was just forty days since we had
sailed from Goram.

Immediately on our arrival at Muka, I engaged a small boat and three
natives to go in search of my lost men, and sent one of my own men with
them to make sure of their going to the right island. In ten days they
returned, but to my great regret and disappointment, without the men.
The weather had been very bad, and though they had reached an island
within sight of that in which the men were, they could get no further.
They had waited there six days for better weather, and then, having no
more provisions, and the man I had sent with them being very ill and
not expected to live, they returned. As they now knew the island, I was
determined they should make another trial, and (by a liberal payment of
knives, handkerchiefs, and tobacco, with plenty of provisions) persuaded
them to start back immediately, and make another attempt. They did not
return again till the 29th of July, having stayed a few days at their
own village of Bessir on the way; but this time they had succeeded and
brought with them my two lost men, in tolerable health, though thin and
weak. They had lived exactly a month on the island had found water,
and had subsisted on the roots and tender flower-stalks of a species of
Bromelia, on shell-fish and on a few turtles' eggs. Having swum to the
island, they had only a pair of trousers and a shirt between them, but
had made a hut of palm-leaves, and had altogether got on very well. They
saw that I waited for them three days at the opposite island, but had
been afraid to cross, lest the current should have carried them out to
sea, when they would have been inevitably lost. They had felt sure I
would send for them on the first opportunity, and appeared more grateful
than natives usually are for my having done so; while I felt much
relieved that my voyage, though sufficiently unfortunate, had not
involved loss of life.



CHAPTER XXXVI. WAIGIOU.

(JULY TO SEPTEMBER 1860.)

THE village of Muka, on the south coast of Waigiou, consists of a number
of poor huts, partly in the water and partly on shore, and scattered
irregularly over a space of about half a mile in a shallow bay. Around
it are a few cultivated patches, and a good deal of second-growth woody
vegetation; while behind, at the distance of about half a mile, rises
the virgin forest, through which are a few paths to some houses and
plantations a mile or two inland. The country round is rather flat,
and in places swampy, and there are one or two small streams which run
behind the village into the sea below it. Finding that no house could
be had suitable to my purpose, and hawing so often experienced the
advantages of living close to or just within the forest, I obtained the
assistance of half-a-dozen men; and having selected a spot near the path
and the stream, and close to a fine fig-tree, which stood just within
the forest, we cleared the ground and set to building a house. As I did
not expect to stay here so long as I had done at Dorey, I built a long,
low, narrow shed, about seven feet high on one side and four on the
other, which required but little wood, and was put up very rapidly. Our
sails, with a few old attaps from a deserted but in the village, formed
the walls, and a quantity of "cadjans," or palm-leaf mats, covered in
the roof. On the third day my house was finished, and all my things put
in and comfortably arranged to begin work, and I was quite pleased at
having got established so quickly and in such a nice situation.

It had been so far fine weather, but in the night it rained hard, and we
found our mat roof would not keep out water. It first began to drop,
and then to stream over everything. I had to get up in the middle of the
night to secure my insect-boxes, rice, and other perishable articles,
and to find a dry place to sleep in, for my bed was soaked. Fresh leaks
kept forming as the rain continued, and w e all passed a very miserable
and sleepless night. In the morning the sun shone brightly, and
everything was put out to dry. We tried to find out why the mats leaked,
and thought we had discovered that they had been laid on upside down.
Having shifted there all, and got everything dry and comfortable by the
evening, we again went to bed, and before midnight were again awaked by
torrent of rain and leaks streaming in upon us as bad as ever. There
was no more sleep for us that night, and the next day our roof was again
taken to pieces, and we came to the conclusion that the fault was a want
of slope enough in the roof for mats, although it would be sufficient
for the usual attap thatch. I therefore purchased a few new and some old
attaps, and in the parts these would not cover we put the mats double,
and then at last had the satisfaction of finding our roof tolerably
water-tight.

I was now able to begin working at the natural history of the island.
When I first arrived I was surprised at being told that there were no
Paradise Birds at Muka, although there were plenty at Bessir, a place
where the natives caught them and prepared the skins. I assured the
people I had heard the cry of these birds close to the village, but they
world not believe that I could know their cry. However, the very first
time I went into the forest I not only heard but saw them, and was
convinced there were plenty about; but they were very shy, and it was
some time before we got any. My hunter first shot a female, and I one
day got very close to a fine male. He was, as I expected, the rare red
species, Paradisea rubra, which alone inhabits this island, and is found
nowhere else. He was quite low down, running along a bough searching
for insects, almost like a woodpecker, and the long black riband-like
filaments in his tail hung down in the most graceful double curve
imaginable. I covered him with my gun, and was going to use the barrel
which had a very small charge of powder and number eight shot, so as
not to injure his plumage, but the gun missed fire, and he was off in an
instant among the thickest jungle. Another day we saw no less than eight
fine males at different times, and fired four times at them; but though
other birds at the same distance almost always dropped, these all got
away, and I began to think we were not to get this magnificent species.
At length the fruit ripened on the fig-tree close by my house, and many
birds came to feed on it; and one morning, as I was taking my coffee, a
male Paradise Bird was seen to settle on its top. I seized my gun, ran
under the tree, and, gazing up, could see it flying across from branch
to branch, seizing a fruit here and another there, and then, before I
could get a sufficient aim to shoot at such a height (for it was one of
the loftiest trees of the tropics), it was away into the forest. They
now visited the tree every morning; but they stayed so short a time,
their motions were so rapid, and it was so difficult to see them, owing
to the lower trees, which impeded the view, that it was only after
several days' watching, and one or two misses, that I brought down my
bird--a male in the most magnificent plumage.

This bird differs very much from the two large species which I had
already obtained, and, although it wants the grace imparted by their
long golden trains, is in many respects more remarkable and more
beautiful. The head, back, and shoulders are clothed with a richer
yellow, the deep metallic green colour of the throat extends further
over the head, and the feathers are elongated on the forehead into two
little erectile crests. The side plumes are shorter, but are of a
rich red colour, terminating in delicate white points, and the middle
tail-feathers are represented by two long rigid glossy ribands, which
are black, thin, and semi-cylindrical, and droop gracefully in a
spiral curve. Several other interesting birds were obtained, and about
half-a-dozen quite new ones; but none of any remarkable beauty, except
the lovely little dove, Ptilonopus pulchellus, which with several
other pigeons I shot on the same fig-tree close to my house. It is of
a beautiful green colour above, with a forehead of the richest crimson,
while beneath it is ashy white and rich yellow, banded with violet red.

On the evening of our arrival at Muka I observed what appeared like a
display of Aurora Borealis, though I could hardly believe that this was
possible at a point a little south of the equator. The night was clear
and calm, and the northern sky presented a diffused light, with a
constant succession of faint vertical flashings or flickerings, exactly
similar to an ordinary aurora in England. The next day was fine, but
after that the weather was unprecedentedly bad, considering that it
ought to have been the dry monsoon. For near a month we had wet weather;
the sun either not appearing at all, or only for an hour or two about
noon. Morning and evening, as well as nearly all night, it rained or
drizzled, and boisterous winds, with dark clouds, formed the daily
programme. With the exception that it was never cold, it was just such
weather as a very bad English November or February.

The people of Waigiou are not truly indigenes of the island, which
possesses no "Alfuros," or aboriginal inhabitants. They appear to be
a mixed race, partly from Gilolo, partly from New Guinea. Malays and
Alfuros from the former island have probably settled here, and many of
them have taken Papuan wives from Salwatty or Dorey, while the influx of
people from those places, and of slaves, has led to the formation of a
tribe exhibiting almost all the transitions from a nearly pure Malayan
to an entirely Papuan type. The language spoken by them is entirely
Papuan, being that which is used on all the coasts of Mysol, Salwatty,
the north-west of New Guinea, and the islands in the great Geelvink
Bay,--a fact which indicates the way in which the coast settlements have
been formed. The fact that so many of the islands between New Guinea and
the Moluccas--such as Waigiou, Guebe, Poppa, Obi, Batchian, as well as
the south and east peninsulas of Gilolo--possess no aboriginal tribes,
but are inhabited by people who are evidently mongrels and wanderers, is
a remarkable corroborative proof of the distinctness of the Malayan and
Papuan races, and the separation of the geographical areas they inhabit.
If these two great races were direct modifications, the one of
the other, we should expect to find in the intervening region some
homogeneous indigenous race presenting intermediate characters. For
example, between the whitest inhabitants of Europe and the black Klings
of South India, there are in the intervening districts homogeneous races
which form a gradual transition from one to the other; while in America,
although there is a perfect transition from the Anglo-Saxon to the
negro, and from the Spaniard to the Indian, there is no homogeneous
race forming a natural transition from one to the other. In the Malay
Archipelago we have an excellent example of two absolutely distinct
races, which appear to have approached each other, and intermingled in
an unoccupied territory at a very recent epoch in the history of man;
and I feel satisfied that no unprejudiced person could study them on
the spot without being convinced that this is the true solution of the
problem, rather than the almost universally accepted view that they are
but modifications of one and the same race.

The people of Muka live in that abject state of poverty that is almost
always found where the sago-tree is abundant. Very few of them take the
trouble to plant any vegetables or fruit, but live almost entirely on
sago and fish, selling a little tripang or tortoiseshell to buy the
scanty clothing they require. Almost all of them, however, possess one
or more Papuan slaves, on whose labour they live in almost absolute
idleness, just going out on little fishing or trading excursions, as an
excitement in their monotonous existence. They are under the rule of the
Sultan of Tidore, and every year have to pay a small tribute of Paradise
birds, tortoiseshell, or sago. To obtain these, they go in the fine
season on a trading voyage to the mainland of New Guinea, and getting a
few goods on credit from some Ceram or Bugis trader, make hard bargains
with the natives, and gain enough to pay their tribute, and leave a
little profit for themselves.

Such a country is not a very pleasant one to live in, for as there are
no superfluities, there is nothing to sell; and had it not been for a
trader from Ceram who was residing there during my stay, who had a small
vegetable garden, and whose men occasionally got a few spare fish, I
should often have had nothing to eat. Fowls, fruit, and vegetables are
luxuries very rarely to be purchased at Muka; and even cocoa-nuts, so
indispensable for eastern cookery, are not to be obtained; for though
there are some hundreds of trees in the village, all the fruit is eaten
green, to supply the place of the vegetables the people are too lazy
to cultivate. Without eggs, cocoa-nuts, or plantains, we had very short
commons, and the boisterous weather being unpropitious for fishing, we
had to live on what few eatable birds we could shoot, with an occasional
cuscus, or eastern opossum, the only quadruped, except pigs, inhabiting
the island.

I had only shot two male Paradiseas on my tree when they ceased visiting
it, either owing to the fruit becoming scarce, or that they were wise
enough to know there was danger. We continued to hear and see them in
the forest, but after a month had not succeeded in shooting any more;
and as my chief object in visiting Waigiou was to get these birds, I
determined to go to Bessir, where there are a number of Papuans who
catch and preserve them. I hired a small outrigger boat for this
journey, and left one of my men to guard my house and goods. We had
to wait several days for fine weather, and at length started early
one morning, and arrived late at night, after a rough and disagreeable
passage. The village of Bessir was built in the water at the point of
a small island. The chief food of the people was evidently shell-fish,
since great heaps of the shells had accumulated in the shallow water
between the houses and the land, forming a regular "kitchen-midden" for
the exploration of some future archeologist. We spent the night in the
chief's house, and the next morning went over to the mainland to look
out for a place where I could reside. This part of Waigiou is really
another island to the south of the narrow channel we had passed through
in coming to Muka. It appears to consist almost entirely of raised
coral, whereas the northern island contains hard crystalline rocks. The
shores were a range of low limestone cliffs, worn out by the water, so
that the upper part generally overhung. At distant intervals were little
coves and openings, where small streams came down from the interior; and
in one of these we landed, pulling our boat up on a patch of white sandy
beach. Immediately above was a large newly-made plantation of yams and
plantains, and a small hot, which the chief said we might have the use
of, if it would do for me. It was quite a dwarf's house, just eight feet
square, raised on posts so that the floor was four and a half feet above
the ground, and the highest part of the ridge only five feet above the
flour. As I am six feet and an inch in my stockings, I looked at this
with some dismay; but finding that the other houses were much further
from water, were dreadfully dirty, and were crowded with people, I at
once accepted the little one, and determined to make the best of it.
At first I thought of taking out the floor, which would leave it high
enough to walk in and out without stooping; but then there would not be
room enough, so I left it just as it was, had it thoroughly cleaned out,
and brought up my baggage. The upper story I used for sleeping in, and
for a store-room. In the lower part (which was quite open all round) I
fixed up a small table, arranged my boxes, put up hanging-shelves, laid
a mat on the ground with my wicker-chair upon it, hung up another mat on
the windward side, and then found that, by bending double and carefully
creeping in, I could sit on my chair with my head just clear of the
ceiling. Here I lived pretty comfortably for six weeks, taking all my
meals and doing all my work at my little table, to and from which I had
to creep in a semi-horizontal position a dozen times a day; and, after
a few severe knocks on the head by suddenly rising from my chair, learnt
to accommodate myself to circumstances. We put up a little sloping
cooking-but outside, and a bench on which my lads could skin their
birds. At night I went up to my little loft, they spread their mats on
the floor below, and we none of us grumbled at our lodgings.

My first business was to send for the men who were accustomed to catch
the Birds of Paradise. Several came, and I showed them my hatchets,
beads, knives, and handkerchiefs; and explained to them, as well as I
could by signs, the price I would give for fresh-killed specimens. It is
the universal custom to pay for everything in advance; but only one man
ventured on this occasion to take goods to the value of two birds. The
rest were suspicious, and wanted to see the result of the first bargain
with the strange white man, the only one who had ever come to their
island. After three days, my man brought me the first bird--a very fine
specimen, and alive, but tied up in a small bag, and consequently its
tail and wing feathers very much crushed and injured. I tried to explain
to him, and to the others that came with him, that I wanted them as
perfect as possible, and that they should either kill them, or keep
them on a perch with a string to their leg. As they were now apparently
satisfied that all was fair, and that I had no ulterior designs upon
them, six others took away goods; some for one bird, some for more, and
one for as many as six. They said they had to go a long way for them,
and that they would come back as soon as they caught any. At intervals
of a few days or a week, some of them would return, bringing me one or
more birds; but though they did not bring any more in bags, there was
not much improvement in their condition. As they caught them a long way
off in the forest, they would scarcely ever come with one, but would
tie it by the leg to a stick, and put it in their house till they caught
another. The poor creature would make violent efforts to escape, would
get among the ashes, or hang suspended by the leg till the limb was
swollen and half-putrefied, and sometimes die of starvation and worry.
One had its beautiful head all defiled by pitch from a dammar torch;
another had been so long dead that its stomach was turning green.
Luckily, however, the skin and plumage of these birds is so firm and
strong, that they bear washing and cleaning better than almost any other
sort; and I was generally able to clean them so well that they did not
perceptibly differ from those I had shot myself.

Some few were brought me the same day they were caught, and I had an
opportunity of examining them in all their beauty and vivacity. As soon
as I found they were generally brought alive, I set one of my men to
make a large bamboo cage with troughs for food and water, hoping to be
able to keep some of them. I got the natives to bring me branches of
a fruit they were very fond of, and I was pleased to find they ate it
greedily, and would also take any number of live grasshoppers I gave
them, stripping off the legs and wings, and then swallowing them. They
drank plenty of water, and were in constant motion, jumping about the
cage from perch to perch, clinging on the top and sides, and rarely
resting a moment the first day till nightfall. The second day they were
always less active, although they would eat as freely as before; and on
the morning of the third day they were almost always found dead at the
bottom of the cage, without any apparent cause. Some of them ate boiled
rice as well as fruit and insects; but after trying many in succession,
not one out of ten lived more than three days. The second or third
day they would be dull, and in several cases they were seized with
convulsions, and fell off the perch, dying a few hours afterwards.
I tried immature as well as full-plumaged birds, but with no better
success, and at length gave it up as a hopeless task, and confined my
attention to preserving specimens in as good a condition as possible.

The Red Birds of Paradise are not shot with blunt arrows, as in the Aru
Islands and some parts of New Guinea, but are snared in a very ingenious
manner. A large climbing Arum bears a red reticulated fruit, of which
the birds are very fond. The hunters fasten this fruit on a stout forked
stick, and provide themselves with a fine but strong cord. They then
seep out some tree in the forest on which these birds are accustomed to
perch, and climbing up it fasten the stick to a branch and arrange the
cord in a noose so ingeniously, that when the bird comes to eat the
fruit its legs are caught, and by pulling the end of the cord, which
hangs down to the ground, it comes free from the branch and brings down
the bird. Sometimes, when food is abundant elsewhere, the hunter sits
from morning till night under his tree with the cord in his hand, and
even for two or three whole days in succession, without even getting a
bite; while, on the other hand, if very lucky, he may get two or three
birds in a day. There are only eight or ten men at Bessir who practise
this art, which is unknown anywhere else in the island. I determined,
therefore, to stay as long as possible, as my only chance of getting a
good series of specimens; and although I was nearly starved, everything
eatable by civilized man being scarce or altogether absent, I finally
succeeded.

The vegetables and fruit in the plantations around us did not suffice
for the wants of the inhabitants, and were almost always dug up or
gathered before they were ripe. It was very rarely we could purchase
a little fish; fowls there were none; and we were reduced to live upon
tough pigeons and cockatoos, with our rice and sago, and sometimes we
could not get these. Having been already eight months on this voyage, my
stock of all condiments, spices and butter, was exhausted, and I found
it impossible to eat sufficient of my tasteless and unpalatable food
to support health. I got very thin and weak, and had a curious disease
known (I have since heard) as brow-ague. Directly after breakfast every
morning an intense pain set in on a small spot on the right temple. It
was a severe burning ache, as bad as the worst toothache, and lasted
about two hours, generally going off at noon. When this finally ceased,
I had an attack of fever, which left me so weak and so unable to eat our
regular food, that I feel sure my life was saved by a couple of tins of
soup which I had long reserved for some such extremity. I used often to
go out searching after vegetables, and found a great treasure in a lot
of tomato plants run wild, and bearing little fruits about the size of
gooseberries. I also boiled up the tops of pumpkin plants and of ferns,
by way of greens, and occasionally got a few green papaws. The natives,
when hard up for food, live upon a fleshy seaweed, which they boil till
it is tender. I tried this also, but found it too salt and bitter to be
endured.

Towards the end of September it became absolutely necessary for me to
return, in order to make our homeward voyage before the end of the east
monsoon. Most of the men who had taken payment from me had brought the
birds they had agreed for. One poor fellow had been so unfortunate
as not to get one, and he very honestly brought back the axe he had
received in advance; another, who had agreed for six, brought me the
fifth two days before I was to start, and went off immediately to the
forest again to get the other. He did not return, however, and we loaded
our boat, and were just on the point of starting, when he came running
down after us holding up a bird, which he handed to me, saying with
great satisfaction, "Now I owe you nothing." These were remarkable and
quite unexpected instances of honesty among savages, where it would have
been very easy for them to have been dishonest without fear of detection
or punishment.

The country round about Bessir was very hilly and rugged, bristling with
jagged and honey-combed coralline rocks, and with curious little chasms
and ravines. The paths often passed through these rocky clefts, which in
the depths of the forest were gloomy and dark in the extreme, and
often full of fine-leaved herbaceous plants and curious blue-foliaged
Lycopodiaceae. It was in such places as these that I obtained many of
my most beautiful small butterflies, such as Sospita statira and Taxila
pulchra, the gorgeous blue Amblypodia hercules, and many others. On the
skirts of the plantations I found the handsome blue Deudorix despoena,
and in the shady woods the lovely Lycaena wallacei. Here, too, I
obtained the beautiful Thyca aruna, of the richest orange on the upper
side; while below it is intense crimson and glossy black; and a superb
specimen of a green Ornithoptera, absolutely fresh and perfect, and
which still remains one of the glories of my cabinet.

My collection of birds, though not very rich in number of species, was
yet very interesting. I got another specimen of the rare New Guinea
kite (Henicopernis longicauda), a large new goatsucker (Podargus
superciliaris), and a most curious ground-pigeon of an entirely new
genus, and remarkable for its long and powerful bill. It has been named
Henicophaps albifrons. I was also much pleased to obtain a fine series
of a large fruit-pigeon with a protuberance on the bill (Carpophaga
tumida), and to ascertain that this was not, as had been hitherto
supposed, a sexual character, but was found equally in male and female
birds. I collected only seventy-three species of birds in Waigiou, but
twelve of them were entirely new, and many others very rare; and as I
brought away with me twenty-four fine specimens of the Paradisea rubra,
I did not regret my visit to the island, although it had by no means
answered my expectations.



CHAPTER XXXVII. VOYAGE FROM WAIGIOU TO TERNATE.

(SEPTEMBER 29 To NOVEMBER 5, 1860.)

I HAD left the old pilot at Waigiou to take care of my house and to get
the prau into sailing order--to caulk her bottom, and to look after
the upper works, thatch, and ringing. When I returned I found it nearly
ready, and immediately began packing up and preparing for the voyage.
Our mainsail had formed one side of our house, but the spanker and jib
had been put away in the roof, and on opening them to see if any repairs
were wanted, to our horror we found that some rats had made them their
nest, and had gnawed through them in twenty places. We had therefore
to buy matting and make new sails, and this delayed us till the 29th of
September, when we at length left Waigiou.

It took us four days before we could get clear of the land, having
to pass along narrow straits beset with reefs and shoals, and full of
strong currents, so that an unfavourable wind stopped us altogether. One
day, when nearly clear, a contrary tide and head wind drove us ten miles
back to our anchorage of the night before. This delay made us afraid of
running short of water if we should be becalmed at sea, and we therefore
determined, if possible, to touch at the island where our men had
been lost, and which lay directly in our proper course. The wind was,
however, as usual, contrary, being S.S.W. instead of S.S.E., as it
should have been at this time of the year, and all we could do was to
reach the island of Gagie, where we came to an anchor by moonlight under
bare volcanic hills. In the morning we tried to enter a deep bay, at
the head of which some Galela fishermen told us there was water, but a
head-wind prevented us. For the reward of a handkerchief, however,
they took us to the place in their boat, and we filled up our jars and
bamboos. We then went round to their camping-place on the north coast
of the island to try and buy something to eat, but could only get smoked
turtle meat as black and as hard as lumps of coal. A little further on
there was a plantation belonging to Guebe people, but under the care
of a Papuan slave, and the next morning we got some plantains and a few
vegetables in exchange for a handkerchief and some knives. On leaving
this place our anchor had got foul in some rock or sunken log in very
deep water, and after many unsuccessful attempts, we were forced to
cut our rattan cable and leave it behind us. We had now only one anchor
left.

Starting early, on the 4th of October, the same S.S.W wind continued,
and we began to fear that we should hardly clear the southern point
of Gilolo. The night of the 5th was squally, with thunder, but after
midnight it got tolerably fair, and we were going along with a light
wind and looking out for the coast of Gilolo, which we thought we
must be nearing, when we heard a dull roaring sound, like a heavy surf,
behind us. In a short time the roar increased, and we saw a white line
of foam coming on, which rapidly passed us without doing any harm, as
our boat rose easily over the wave. At short intervals, ten or a
dozen others overtook us with bleat rapidity, and then the sea became
perfectly smooth, as it was before. I concluded at once that these must
be earthquake waves; and on reference to the old voyagers we find
that these seas have been long subject to similar phenomena. Dampier
encountered them near Mysol and New Guinea, and describes them as
follows: "We found here very strange tides, that ran in streams, making
a great sea, and roaring so loud that we could hear them before they
came within a mile of us. The sea round about them seemed all broken,
and tossed the ship so that she would not answer her helm. These
ripplings commonly lasted ten or twelve minutes, and then the sea became
as still and smooth as a millpond. We sounded often when in the midst of
them, but found no ground, neither could we perceive that they drove us
any way. We had in one night several of these tides, that came mostly
from the west, and the wind being from that quarter we commonly heard
them a long time before they came, and sometimes lowered our topsails,
thinking it was a gust of wind. They were of great length, from north to
south, but their breadth not exceeding 200 yards, and they drove a great
pace. For though we had little wind to move us, yet these world
soon pass away, and leave the water very smooth, and just before we
encountered them we met a great swell, but it did not break." Some time
afterwards, I learnt that an earthquake had been felt on the coast of
Gilolo the very day we had encountered these curious waves.

When daylight came, we saw the land of Gilolo a few miles off, but the
point was unfortunately a little to windward of us. We tried to brace up
all we could to round it, but as we approached the shore we got into a
strong current setting northward, which carried us so rapidly with it
that we found it necessary to stand off again, in order to get out of
its influence. Sometimes we approached the point a little, and our hopes
revived; then the wind fell, and we drifted slowly away. Night found
us in nearly the same position as we had occupied in the morning, so
we hung down our anchor with about fifteen fathoms of cable to prevent
drifting. On the morning of the 7th we were however, a good way up
the coast, and we now thought our only chance would be to got close
in-shore, where there might be a return current, and we could then row.
The prau was heavy, and my men very poor creatures for work, so that it
took us six hours to get to the edge of the reef that fringed the shore;
and as the wind might at any moment blow on to it, our situation was a
very dangerous one. Luckily, a short distance off there was a sandy bay,
where a small stream stopped the growth of the coral; and by evening we
reached this and anchored for the night. Here we found some Galela men
shooting deer and pigs; but they could not or would not speak Malay, and
we could get little information from them. We found out that along shore
the current changed with the tide, while about a mile out it was always
one way, and against us; and this gave us some hopes of getting back to
the point, from which we were now distant twenty miles. Next morning we
found that the Galela men had left before daylight, having perhaps some
vague fear of our intentions, anal very likely taking me for a pirate.
During the morning a boat passed, and the people informed us that, at
a short distance further towards the point, there was a much better
harbour, where there were plenty of Galela men, from whom we, might
probably get some assistance.

At three in the afternoon, when the current turned, we started; but
having a head-wind, made slow progress. At dusk we reached the entrance
of the harbour, but an eddy and a gust of wind carried us away and out
to sea. After sunset there was a land breeze, and we sailed a little to
the south-east. It then became calm, and we hung down our anchor forty
fathoms, to endeavour to counteract the current; but it was of little
avail, and in the morning we found ourselves a good way from shore, and
just opposite our anchorage of the day before, which we again reached by
hard rowing. I gave the men this day to rest and sleep; and the next day
(Oct. 10th) we again started at two in the morning with a land breeze.
After I had set them to their oars, and given instructions to keep
close in-shore, and on no account to get out to sea, I went below, being
rather unwell. At daybreak I found, to my great astonishment, that
we were again far off-shore, and was told that the wind had gradually
turned more ahead, and had carried us out--none of them having the sense
to take down the sail and row in-shore, or to call me. As soon as it was
daylight, we saw that we had drifted back, and were again opposite our
former anchorage, and, for the third time, had to row hard to get to it.
As we approached the shore, I saw that the current was favourable to us,
and we continued down the coast till we were close to the entrance to
the lower harbour. Just as we were congratulating ourselves on having at
last reached it, a strong south-east squall came on, blowing us back,
and rendering it impossible for us to enter. Not liking the idea of
again returning, I determined on trying to anchor, and succeeded in
doing so, in very deep water and close to the reefs; but the prevailing
winds were such that, should we not hold, we should have no difficulty
in getting out to sea. By the time the squall had passed, the current
had turned against us, and we expected to have to wait till four in the
afternoon, when we intended to enter the harbour.

Now, however, came the climax of our troubles. The swell produced by the
squall made us jerk our cable a good deal, and it suddenly snapped
low down in the water. We drifted out to sea, and immediately set our
mainsail, but we were now without any anchor, and in a vessel so poorly
manned that it could not be rowed against the most feeble current or the
slightest wind, it word be madness to approach these dangerous shores
except in the most perfect calm. We had also only three days' food left.
It was therefore out of the question making any further attempts to get
round the point without assistance, and I at once determined to run
to the village of Gani-diluar, about ten miles further north, where we
understood there was a good harbour, and where we might get provisions
and a few more rowers. Hitherto winds and currents load invariably
opposed our passage southward, and we might have expected them to
be favourable to us now we had turned our bowsprit in an opposite
direction. But it immediately fell calm, and then after a time a
westerly land breeze set in, which would not serve us, and we had to
row again for hours, and when night came had not reached the village. We
were so fortunate, however, as to find a deep sheltered cove where the
water was quite smooth, and we constructed a temporary anchor by filling
a sack with stones from our ballast, which being well secured by a
network of rattans held us safely during the night. The next morning
my men went on shore to cut wood suitable for making fresh anchors,
and about noon, the current turning in our favour, we proceeded to the
village, where we found an excellent and well-protected anchorage.

On inquiry, we found that the head men resided at the other Gani on the
western side of the peninsula, and it was necessary to send messengers
across (about half a day's journey) to inform them of my arrival, and
to beg them to assist me. I then succeeded in buying a little sago, some
dried deer-meat and cocoa-nuts, which at once relieved our immediate
want of something to eat. At night we found our bag of atones still held
us very well, and we slept tranquilly.

The next day (October 12th), my men set to work making anchors and oars.
The native Malay anchor is ingeniously constructed of a piece of tough
forked timber, the fluke being strengthened by twisted rattans binding
it to the stem, while the cross-piece is formed of a long flat
stone, secured in the same manner. These anchors when well made, hold
exceedingly arm, and, owing to the expense of iron, are still almost
universally used on board the smaller praus. In the afternoon the head
men arrived, and promised me as many rowers as I could put on the
prau, and also brought me a few eggs and a little rice, which were very
acceptable. On the 14th there was a north wind all day, which would
have been invaluable to us a few days earlier, but which was now only
tantalizing. On the 16th, all being ready, we started at daybreak with
two new anchors and ten rowers, who understood their work. By evening we
had come more than half-way to the point, and anchored for the night in
a small bay. At three the next morning I ordered the anchor up, but the
rattan cable parted close to the bottom, having been chafed by rocks,
and we then lost our third anchor on this unfortunate voyage. The day
was calm, and by noon we passed the southern point of Gilolo, which had
delayed us eleven days, whereas the whole voyage during this monsoon
should not have occupied more than half that time. Having got round the
point our course was exactly in the opposite direction to what it had
been, and now, as usual, the wind changed accordingly, coming from the
north and north-west,--so that we still had to row every mile up to the
village of Gani, which we did not reach till the evening of the 18th. A
Bugis trader who was residing there, and the Senaji, or chief, were
very kind; the former assisting me with a spare anchor and a cable, and
making me a present of some vegetables, and the latter baking fresh sago
cakes for my men; and giving rue a couple of fowls, a bottle of oil, and
some pumpkins. As the weather was still very uncertain, I got four
extra men to accompany me to Ternate, for which place we started on the
afternoon of the 20th.

We had to keep rowing all night, the land breezes being too weak to
enable us to sail against the current. During the afternoon of the 21st
we had an hour's fair wind, which soon changed into a heavy squall with
rain, and my clumsy men let the mainsail get taken aback and nearly
upset us, tearing the sail; and, what was worse, losing an hour's fair
wind. The night was calm, and we made little progress.

On the 22d we had light head-winds. A little before noon we passed, with
the assistance of our oars, the Paciencia Straits, the narrowest part
of the channel between Batchian and Gilolo. These were well named by the
early Portuguese navigators, as the currents are very strong, and there
are so many eddies, that even with a fair wind vessels are often quite
unable to pass through them. In the afternoon a strong north wind (dead
ahead) obliged us to anchor twice. At nigh it was calm, and we crept
along slowly with our oars.

On the 23d we still had the wind ahead, or calms. We then crossed over
again to the mainland of Gilolo by the advice of our Gani men, who knew
the coast well. Just as we got across we had another northerly squall
with rain, and had to anchor on the edge of a coral reef for the night.
I called up my men about three on the morning of the 24th, but there was
no wind to help us, and we rowed along slowly. At daybreak there was a
fair breeze from the south, but it lasted only an hour. All the rest of
the day we had nothing but calms, light winds ahead, and squalls, and
made very little progress.

On the 25th we drifted out to the middle of the channel, but made no
progress onward. In the afternoon we sailed and rowed to the south end
of Kaióa, and by midnight reached the village. I determined to stay here
a few days to rest and recruit, and in hopes of getting better weather.
I bought some onions and other vegetables, and plenty of eggs, and my
men baked fresh sago cakes. I went daily to my old hunting-ground in
search of insects, but with very poor success. It was now wet, squally
weather, and there appeared a stagnation of insect life. We Staved five
days, during which time twelve persons died in the village, mostly from
simple intermittent fever, of the treatment of which the natives are
quite ignorant. During the whole of this voyage I had suffered greatly
from sunburnt lips, owing to having exposed myself on deck all day to
loon after our safety among the shoals and reefs near Waigiou. The
salt in the air so affected them that they would not heal, but became
excessively painful, and bled at the slightest touch, and for a long
time it was with great difficulty I could eat at all, being obliged
to open my mouth very wide, and put in each mouthful with the greatest
caution. I kept them constantly covered with ointment, which was itself
very disagreeable, and they caused me almost constant pain for more than
a month, as they did not get well till I had returned to Ternate, and
was able to remain a week indoors.

A boat which left for Ternate, the day after we arrived, was obliged to
return the next day, on account of bad weather. On the 31st we went out
to the anchorage at the mouth of the harbour, so as to be ready to start
at the first favourable opportunity.

On the 1st of November I called up my men at one in the morning, and we
started with the tide in our favour. Hitherto it had usually been calm
at night, but on this occasion we had a strong westerly squall with
rain, which turned our prau broadside, and obliged us to anchor. When it
had passed we went on rowing all night, but the wind ahead counteracted
the current in our favour, and we advanced but little. Soon after
sunrise the wind became stronger and more adverse, and as we had a
dangerous lee-shore which we could not clear, we had to put about
and get an offing to the W.S.W. This series of contrary winds and bad
weather ever since we started, not having had a single day of fair wind,
was very remarkable. My men firmly believed there was something unlucky
in the boat, and told me I ought to have had a certain ceremony gone
through before starting, consisting of boring a hole in the bottom and
pouring some kind of holy oil through it. It must be remembered that
this was the season of the south-east monsoon, and yet we had not had
even half a day's south-east wind since we left Waigiou. Contrary winds,
squalls, and currents drifted us about the rest of the day at their
pleasure. The night was equally squally and changeable, and kept us hard
at work taking in and making sail, and rowing in the intervals.

Sunrise on the 2d found us in the middle of the ten-mile channel between
Kaióa and Makian. Squalls and showers succeeded each other during the
morning. At noon there was a dead calm, after which a light westerly
breeze enabled us to reach a village on Makian in the evening. Here I
bought some pumelos (Citrus decumana), kanary-nuts, and coffee, and let
my men have a night's sleep.

The morning of the 3d was fine, and we rowed slowly along the coast of
Makian. The captain of a small prau at anchor, seeing me on deck and
guessing who I was, made signals for us to stop, and brought me a letter
from Charles Allen, who informed me he had been at Ternate twenty days,
and was anxiously waiting my arrival. This was good news, as I was
equally anxious about him, and it cheered up my spirits. A light
southerly wind now sprung up, and we thought we were going to have fine
weather. It soon changed, however, to its old quarter, the west; dense
clouds gathered over the sky, and in less than half an hour we had the
severest squall we had experienced during our whole voyage. Luckily we
got our great mainsail down in time, or the consequences might have been
serious. It was a regular little hurricane, and my old Bugis steersman
began shouting out to "Allah! il Allah!" to preserve us. We could only
keep up our jib, which was almost blown to rags, but by careful handling
it kept us before the wind, and the prau behaved very well. Our small
boat (purchased at Gani) was towing astern, and soon got full of water,
so that it broke away and we saw no more of it. In about an hour the
fury of the wind abated a little, and in two more we were able to hoist
our mainsail, reefed and half-mast high. Towards evening it cleared up
and fell calm, and the sea, which had been rather high, soon went down.
Not being much of a seaman myself I had been considerably alarmed, and
even the old steersman assured me he had never been in a worse squall
all his life. He was now more than ever confirmed in his opinion of the
unluckiness of the boat, and in the efficiency of the holy oil which all
Bugis praus had poured through their bottoms. As it was, he imputed
our safety and the quick termination of the squall entirely to his own
prayers, saying with a laugh, "Yes, that's the way we always do on board
our praus; when things are at the worst we stand up and shout out our
prayers as loud as we can, and then Tuwan Allah helps us."

After this it took us two days more to reach Ternate, having our usual
calms, squalls, and head-winds to the very last; and once having to
return back to our anchorage owing to violent gusts of wind just as we
were close to the town. Looking at my whole voyage in this vessel from
the time when I left Goram in May, it will appear that rely experiences
of travel in a native prau have not been encouraging. My first crew
ran away; two men were lost for a month on a desert island; we were
ten times aground on coral reefs; we lost four anchors; the sails were
devoured by rats; the small boat was lost astern; we were thirty-eight
days on the voyage home, which should not have taken twelve; we were
many times short of food and water; we had no compass-lamp, owing to
there not being a drop of oil in Waigiou when we left; and to crown all,
during the whole of our voyages from Goram by Ceram to Waigiou, and from
Waigiou to Ternate, occupying in all seventy-eight days, or only
twelve days short of three months (all in what was supposed to be the
favourable season), we had not one single day of fair wind. We were
always close braced up, always struggling against wind, tide, and
leeway, and in a vessel that would scarcely sail nearer than eight
points from the wind. Every seaman will admit that my first voyage in my
own boat was a most unlucky one.

Charles Allen had obtained a tolerable collection of birds and insects
at Mysol, but far less than he would have done if I had not been so
unfortunate as to miss visiting him. After waiting another week or two
till he was nearly starved, he returned to Wahai in Ceram, and heard,
much to his surprise, that I had left a fortnight before. He was delayed
there more than a month before he could get back to the north side of
Mysol, which he found a much better locality, but it was not yet the
season for the Paradise Birds; and before he had obtained more than a
few of the common sort, the last prau was ready to leave for Ternate,
and he was obliged to take the opportunity, as he expected I would be
waiting there for him.

This concludes the record of my wanderings. I next went to Timor, and
afterwards to Bourn, Java, and Sumatra, which places have already been
described. Charles Allen made a voyage to New Guinea, a short account of
which will be given in my next chapter on the Birds of Paradise. On
his return he went to the Sula Islands, and made a very interesting
collection which served to determine the limits of the zoological group
of Celebes, as already explained in my chapter on the natural history of
that island. His next journey was to Flores and Solor, where he obtained
some valuable materials, which I have used in my chapter on the natural
history of the Timor group. He afterwards went to Coti on the east coast
of Borneo, from which place I was very anxious to obtain collections,
as it is a quite new locality as far as possible from Sarawak, and I
had heard very good accounts of it. On his return thence to Sourabaya in
Java, he was to have gone to the entirely unknown Sumba or Sandal-wood
Island. Most unfortunately, however, he was seized with a terrible fever
on his arrival at Coti, and, after lying there some weeks, was taken to
Singapore in a very bad condition, where he arrived after I had left for
England. When he recovered he obtained employment in Singapore, and I
lost his services as a collector.

The three concluding chapters of my work will treat of the birds of
Paradise, the Natural History of the Papuan Islands, and the Races of
Man in the Malay Archipelago.



CHAPTER XXXVIII. THE BIRDS OF PARADISE.

AS many of my journeys were made with the express object of obtaining
specimens of the Birds of Paradise, and learning something of their
habits and distribution; and being (as far as I am aware) the only
Englishman who has seen these wonderful birds in their native forests,
and obtained specimens of many of them, I propose to give here, in a
connected form, the result of my observations and inquiries.

When the earliest European voyagers reached the Moluccas in search of
cloves and nutmegs, which were then rare and precious spices, they were
presented with the dried shins of birds so strange and beautiful as to
excite the admiration even of those wealth-seeking rovers. The Malay
traders gave them the name of "Manuk dewata," or God's birds; and the
Portuguese, finding that they had no feet or wings, and not being able
to learn anything authentic about then, called them "Passaros de Col,"
or Birds of the Sun; while the learned Dutchmen, who wrote in Latin,
called them "Avis paradiseus," or Paradise Bird. John van Linschoten
gives these names in 1598, and tells us that no one has seen these birds
alive, for they live in the air, always turning towards the sun, and
never lighting on the earth till they die; for they have neither feet
nor wings, as, he adds, may be seen by the birds carried to India, and
sometimes to Holland, but being very costly they were then rarely seen
in Europe. More than a hundred years later Mr. William Funnel, who
accompanied Dampier, and wrote an account of the voyage, saw specimens
at Amboyna, and was told that they came to Banda to eat nutmegs, which
intoxicated them and made them fall down senseless, when they were
killed by ants. Down to 1760, when Linnaeus named the largest species,
Paradisea apoda (the footless Paradise Bird), no perfect specimen had
been seen in Europe, and absolutely nothing was known about them. And
even now, a hundred years later, most books state that they migrate
annually to Ternate, Banda, and Amboyna; whereas the fact is, that they
are as completely unknown in those islands in a wild state as they are
in England. Linnaeus was also acquainted with a small species, which he
named Paradisea regia (the King Bird of Paradise), and since then nine
or ten others have been named, all of which were first described from
skins preserved by the savages of New Guinea, and generally more or less
imperfect. These are now all known in the Malay Archipelago as "Burong
coati," or dead birds, indicating that the Malay traders never saw them
alive.

The Paradiseidae are a group of moderate-sized birds, allied in
their structure and habits to crows, starlings, and to the Australian
honeysuckers; but they are characterised by extraordinary developments
of plumage, which are unequalled in any other family of birds. In
several species large tufts of delicate bright-coloured feathers spring
from each side of the body beneath the wings, forming trains, or fans,
or shields; and the middle feathers of the tail are often elongated into
wires, twisted into fantastic shapes, or adorned with the most brilliant
metallic tints. In another set of species these accessory plumes spring
from the head, the back, or the shoulders; while the intensity of colour
and of metallic lustre displayed by their plumage, is not to be equalled
by any other birds, except, perhaps, the humming-birds, and is not
surpassed even by these. They have been usually classified under
two distinct families, Paradiseidae and Epimachidae, the latter
characterised by long and slender beaks, and supposed to be allied to
the Hoopoes; but the two groups are so closely allied in every essential
point of structure and habits, that I shall consider them as forming
subdivisions of one family. I will now give a short description of each
of the known species, and then add some general remarks on their natural
history.

The Great Bird of Paradise (Paradisea apoda of Linnaeus) is the largest
species known, being generally seventeen or eighteen inches from the
beak to the tip of the tail. The body, wings, and tail are of a rich
coffee-brown, which deepens on the breast to a blackish-violet or
purple-brown. The whole top of the head and neck is of an exceedingly
delicate straw-yellow, the feathers being short and close set, so as
to resemble plush or velvet; the lower part of the throat up to the eye
clothed with scaly feathers of an emerald, green colour, and with a rich
metallic gloss, and velvety plumes of a still deeper green extend in
a band across the forehead and chin as far as the eye, which is bright
yellow. The beak is pale lead blue; and the feet, which are rather large
and very strong and well formed, are of a pale ashy-pink. The two middle
feathers of the tail have no webs, except a very small one at the base
and at the extreme tip, forming wire-like cirrhi, which spread out in
an elegant double curve, and vary from twenty-four to thirty-four inches
long. From each side of the body, beneath the wings, springs a dense
tuft of long and delicate plumes, sometimes two feet in length, of the
most intense golden-orange colour and very glossy, but changing towards
the tips into a pale brown. This tuft of plumage cam be elevated and
spread out at pleasure, so as almost to conceal the body of the bird.

These splendid ornaments are entirely confined to the male sex, while
the female is really a very plain and ordinary-looking bird of a uniform
coffee-brown colour which never changes, neither does she possess the
long tail wires, nor a single yellow or green feather about the dead.
The young males of the first year exactly resemble the females, so that
they can only be distinguished by dissection. The first change is the
acquisition of the yellow and green colour on the head and throat, and
at the same time the two middle tail feathers grow a few inches longer
than the rest, but remain webbed on both sides. At a later period these
feathers are replaced by the long bare shafts of the full length, as
in the adult bird; but there is still no sign of the magnificent orange
side-plumes, which later still complete the attire of the perfect
male. To effect these changes there must be at least three successive
moultings; and as the birds were found by me in all the stages about the
same time, it is probable that they moult only once a year, and that
the full plumage is not acquired till the bird is four years old. It
was long thought that the fine train of feathers was assumed for a short
time only at the breeding season, but my own experience, as well as the
observation of birds of an allied species which I brought home with
me, and which lived two years in this country, show that the complete
plumage is retained during the whole year, except during a short period
of moulting as with most other birds.

The Great Bird of Paradise is very active and vigorous and seems to be
in constant motion all day long. It is very abundant, small flocks
of females and young male being constantly met with; and though the
full-plumaged birds are less plentiful, their loud cries, which are
heard daily, show that they also are very numerous. Their note is,
"Wawk-wawk-wawk-Wok-wok-wok," and is so loud and shrill as to be heard a
great distance, and to form the most prominent and characteristic animal
sound in the Aru Islands. The mode of nidification is unknown; but the
natives told me that the nest was formed of leaves placed on an ant's
nest, or on some projecting limb of a very lofty tree, and they believe
that it contains only one young bird. The egg is quite unknown, and the
natives declared they had never seen it; and a very high reward offered
for one by a Dutch official did not meet with success. They moult about
January or February, and in May, when they are in full plumage, the
males assemble early in the morning to exhibit themselves in the
singular manner already described at p. 252. This habit enables the
natives to obtain specimens with comparative ease. As soon as they find
that the birds have fled upon a tree on which to assemble, they build a
little shelter of palm leaves in a convenient place among the branches,
and the hunter ensconces himself in it before daylight, armed with his
bow and a number of arrows terminating in a round knob. A boy waits
at the foot of the tree, and when the birds come at sunrise, and a
sufficient number have assembled, and have begun to dance, the hunter
shoots with his blunt arrow so strongly as to stun the bird, which drops
down, and is secured and killed by the boy without its plumage being
injured by a drop of blood. The rest take no notice, and fall one after
another till some of them take the alarm. (See Frontispiece.)

The native mode of preserving them is to cut off the wings and feet, and
then skin the body up to the beak, taking out the skull. A stout stick
is then run up through the specimen coming out at the mouth. Round this
some leaves are stuffed, and the whole is wrapped up in a palm spathe
and dried in the smoky hut. By this plan the head, which is really
large, is shrunk up almost to nothing, the body is much reduced and
shortened, and the greatest prominence is given to the flowing plumage.
Some of these native skins are very clean, and often have wings and feet
left on; others are dreadfully stained with smoke, and all hive a most
erroneous idea of the proportions of the living bird.

The Paradisea apoda, as far as we have any certain knowledge, is
confined to the mainland of the Aru Islands, never being found in the
smaller islands which surround the central mass. It is certainly not
found in any of the parts of New Guinea visited by the Malay and Bugis
traders, nor in any of the other islands where Birds of Paradise are
obtained. But this is by no means conclusive evidence, for it is only in
certain localities that the natives prepare skins, and in other places
the same birds may be abundant without ever becoming known. It is
therefore quite possible that this species may inhabit the great
southern mass of New Guinea, from which Aru has been separated;
while its near ally, which I shall next describe, is confined to the
north-western peninsula.

The Lesser Bird of Paradise (Paradisea papuana of Bechstein), "Le petit
Emeraude" of French authors, is a much smaller bird than the preceding,
although very similar to it. It differs in its lighter brown colour, not
becoming darker or purpled on the breast; in the extension of the yellow
colour all over the upper part of the back and on the wing coverts;
in the lighter yellow of the side plumes, which have only a tinge of
orange, and at the tips are nearly pure white; and in the comparative
shortness of the tail cirrhi. The female differs remarkably front
the same sex in Paradisea apoda, by being entirely white on the under
surface of the body, and is thus a much handsomer bird. The young males
are similarly coloured, and as they grow older they change to brown,
and go through the same stages in acquiring the perfect plumage as has
already been described in the allied species. It is this bird which is
most commonly used in ladies' head-dresses in this country, and also
forms an important article of commerce in the East.

The Paradisea papuana has a comparatively wide range, being the common
species on the mainland of New Guinea, as well as on the islands of
Mysol, Salwatty, Jobie, Biak and Sook. On the south coast of New
Guinea, the Dutch naturalist, Muller, found it at the Oetanata river in
longitude 136° E. I obtained it myself at Dorey; and the captain of the
Dutch steamer Etna informed me that he had seen the feathers among the
natives of Humboldt Bay, in 141° E. longitude. It is very probable,
therefore, that it ranges over the whole of the mainland of New Guinea.

The true Paradise Birds are omnivorous, feeding on fruits and
insects--of the former preferring the small figs; of the latter,
grasshoppers, locusts, and phasmas, as well as cockroaches and
caterpillars. When I returned home, in 1862, I was so fortunate as to
find two adult males of this species in Singapore; and as they seemed
healthy, and fed voraciously on rice, bananas, and cockroaches, I
determined on giving the very high price asked for them--£100.--and to
bring them to England by the overland route under my own care. On my way
home I stayed a week at Bombay, to break the journey, and to lay in a
fresh stock of bananas for my birds. I had great difficulty, however,
in supplying them with insect food, for in the Peninsular and Oriental
steamers cockroaches were scarce, and it was only by setting traps in
the store-rooms, and by hunting an hour every night in the forecastle,
that I could secure a few dozen of these creatures,--scarcely enough
for a single meal. At Malta, where I stayed a fortnight, I got plenty
of cockroaches from a bake-house, and when I left, took with me several
biscuit-tins' full, as provision for the voyage home. We came through
the Mediterranean in March, with a very cold wind; and the only place on
board the mail-steamer where their large cage could be accommodated was
exposed to a strong current of air down a hatchway which stood open day
and night, yet the birds never seemed to feel the cold. During the night
journey from Marseilles to Paris it was a sharp frost; yet they arrived
in London in perfect health, and lived in the Zoological Gardens for
one, and two years, often displaying their beautiful plumes to the
admiration of the spectators. It is evident, therefore, that the
Paradise Birds are very hardy, and require air and exercise rather
than heat; and I feel sure that if a good sized conservators` could
be devoted to them, or if they could be turned loose in the tropical
department of the Crystal Palace or the Great Palm House at Kew, they
would live in this country for many years.

The Red Bird of Paradise (Paradisea rubra of Viellot), though allied to
the two birds already described, is much more distinct from them than
they are from each other. It is about the same size as Paradisea papuana
(13 to 14 inches long), but differs from it in many particulars. The
side plumes, instead of being yellow, are rich crimson, and only extend
about three or four inches beyond the end of the tail; they are somewhat
rigid, and the ends are curved downwards and inwards, and are tipped
with white. The two middle tail feathers, instead of being simply
elongated and deprived of their webs, are transformed into stiff black
ribands, a quarter of an inch wide, but curved like a split quill, and
resembling thin half cylinders of horn or whalebone. When a dead bird
is laid on its back, it is seen that these ribands take a curve or set,
which brings them round so as to meet in a double circle on the neck
of the bird; but when they hang downwards, during life, they assume a
spiral twist, and form an exceedingly graceful double curve. They are
about twenty-two inches long, and always attract attention as the most
conspicuous and extraordinary feature of the species. The rich metallic
green colour of the throat extends over the front half of the head to
behind the eyes, and on the forehead forms a little double crest of
scaly feathers, which adds much to the vivacity of the bird's aspect.
The bill is gamboge yellow, and the iris blackish olive. (Figure at p.
353.)

The female of this species is of a tolerably uniform coffee-brown
colour, but has a blackish head, and the nape neck, and shoulders
yellow, indicating the position of the brighter colours of the male. The
changes of plumage follow the same order of succession as in the other
species, the bright colours of the head and neck being first developed,
then the lengthened filaments of the tail, and last of all, the red side
plumes. I obtained a series of specimens, illustrating the manner in
which the extraordinary black tail ribands are developed, which is very
remarkable. They first appear as two ordinary feathers, rather shorter
than the rest of the tail; the second stage would no doubt be that shown
in a specimen of Paradisea apoda, in which the feathers are moderately
lengthened, and with the web narrowed in the middle; the third stage is
shown by a specimen which has part of the midrib bare, and terminated
by a spatulate web; in another the bare midrib is a little dilated
and semi-cylindrical, and the terminal web very small; in a fifth, the
perfect black horny riband is formed, but it bears at its extremity
a brown spatulate web, while in another a portion of the black riband
itself bears, for a portion of its length, a narrow brown web. It is
only after these changes are fully completed that the red side plumes
begin to appear.

The successive stages of development of the colours and plumage of the
Birds of Paradise are very interesting, from the striking manner in
which they accord with the theory of their having been produced by the
simple action of variation, and the cumulative power of selection by the
females, of those male birds which were more than usually ornamental.
Variations of _colour_ are of all others the most frequent and the
most striking, and are most easily modified and accumulated by man's
selection of them. We should expect, therefore, that the sexual
differences of _colour_ would be those most early accumulated and fixed,
and would therefore appear soonest in the young birds; and this is
exactly what occurs in the Paradise Birds. Of all variations in the
_form_ of birds' feathers, none are so frequent as those in the head and
tail. These occur more, or less in every family of birds, and are easily
produced in many domesticated varieties, while unusual developments of
the feathers of the body are rare in the whole class of birds, and have
seldom or never occurred in domesticated species. In accordance with
these facts, we find the scale-formed plumes of the throat, the crests
of the head, and the long cirrhi of the tail, all fully developed before
the plumes which spring from the side of the body begin to mane their
appearance. If, on the other hand, the male Paradise Birds have not
acquired their distinctive plumage by successive variations, but have
been as they are mow from the moment they first appeared upon the earth,
this succession becomes at the least unintelligible to us, for we can
see no reason why the changes should not take place simultaneously, or
in a reverse order to that in which they actually occur.

What is known of the habits of this bird, and the way in which it is
captured by the natives, have already been described at page 362.

The Red Bird of Paradise offers a remarkable case of restricted
range, being entirely confined to the small island of Waigiou, off the
north-west extremity of New Guinea, where it replaces the allied species
found in the other islands.

The three birds just described form a well-marked group, agreeing in
every point of general structure, in their comparatively large size,
the brown colour of their bodies, wings, and tail, and in the peculiar
character of the ornamental plumage which distinguishes the male bird.
The group ranges nearly over the whole area inhabited by the family of
the Paradiseidae, but each of the species has its own limited region,
and is never found in the same district with either of its close allies.
To these three birds properly belongs the generic title Paradisea, or
true Paradise Bird.

The next species is the Paradisea regia of Linnaeus, or Ding Bird of
Paradise, which differs so much from the three preceding species as
to deserve a distinct generic name, and it has accordingly been called
Cicinnurus regius. By the Malays it is called "Burong rajah," or King
Bird, and by the natives of the Aru Islands "Goby-goby."

This lovely little bird is only about six and a half inches long, partly
owing to the very short tail, which does not surpass the somewhat square
wings. The head, throat, and entire upper surface are of the richest
glossy crimson red, shading to orange-crimson on the forehead, where the
feathers extend beyond the nostrils more than half-way down the beak.
The plumage is excessively brilliant, shining in certain lights with a
metallic or glassy lustre. The breast and belly are pure silky white,
between which colour and the red of the throat there is a broad band of
rich metallic green, and there is a small spot of the same colour close
above each eye. From each side of the body beneath the wing, springs
a tuft of broad delicate feathers about an inch and a half long, of an
ashy colour, but tipped with a broad band of emerald green, bordered
within by a narrow line of buff: These plumes are concealed beneath the
wing, but when the bird pleases, can be raised and spread out so as to
form an elegant semicircular fan on each shoulder. But another ornament
still more extraordinary, and if possible more beautiful, adorns this
little bird. The two middle tail feathers are modified into very slender
wirelike shafts, nearly six inches long, each of which bears at the
extremity, on the inner side only, a web of an emerald green colour,
which is coiled up into a perfect spiral disc, and produces a most
singular and charming effect. The bill is orange yellow, and the feet
and legs of a fine cobalt blue. (See upper figure on the plate at the
commencement of this chapter.)

The female of this little gem is such a plainly coloured bird, that it
can at first sight hardly be believed to belong to the same species. The
upper surface is of a dull earthy brown, a slight tinge of orange red
appearing only on the margins of the quills. Beneath, it is of a paler
yellowish brown, scaled and banded with narrow dusky markings. The young
males are exactly like the female, and they no doubt undergo a series of
changes as singular as those of Paradisea rubra; but, unfortunately, I
was unable to obtain illustrative specimens.

This exquisite little creature frequents the smaller trees in the
thickest parts of the forest, feeding on various fruits; often of a very
large size for so small a bird. It is very active both on its wings and
feet, and makes a whirring sound while flying, something like the
South American manakins. It often flutters its wings and displays the
beautiful fan which adorns its breast, while the star-bearing tail wires
diverge in an elegant double curve. It is tolerably plentiful in the
Aru Islands, which led to it, being brought to Europe at an early period
along with Paradisea apoda. It also occurs in the island of Mysol and in
every part of New Guinea which has been visited by naturalists.

We now come to the remarkable little bird called the "Magnificent,"
first figured by Buffon, and named Paradisea speciosa by Boddaert,
which, with one allied species, has been formed into a separate genus
by Prince Buonaparte, under the name of Diphyllodes, from the curious
double mantle which clothes the back.

The head is covered with short brown velvety feathers, which advance on
the back so as to cover the nostrils. From the nape springs a dense mass
of feathers of a straw-yellow colour, and about one and a half inches
long, forming a mantle over the upper part of the back. Beneath this,
and forming a band about one-third of an inch beyond it, is a second
mantle of rich, glossy, reddish-brown fathers. The rest of the bath is
orange-brown, the tail-coverts and tail dark bronzy, the wings light
orange-buff: The whole under surface is covered with an abundance of
plumage springing from the margins of the breast, and of a rich deep
green colour, with changeable hues of purple. Down the middle of the
breast is a broad band of scaly plumes of the same colour, while the
chin and throat are of a rich metallic bronze. From the middle of the
tail spring two narrow feathers of a rich steel blue, and about ten
inches long. These are webbed on the inner side only, and curve outward,
so as to form a double circle.

From what we know of the habits of allied species, we may be sure that
the greatly developed plumage of this bird is erected and displayed in
some remarkable manner. The mass of feathers on the under surface are
probably expanded into a hemisphere, while the beautiful yellow mantle
is no doubt elevated so as to give the bird a very different appearance
from that which it presents in the dried and flattened skins of the
natives, through which alone it is at present known. The feet appear to
be dark blue.

This rare and elegant little bird is found only on the mainland of New
Guinea, and in the island of Mysol.

A still more rare and beautiful species than the last is the Diphyllodes
wilsoni, described by Mr. Cassin from a native skin in the rich museum
of Philadelphia. The same bird was afterwards named "Diphyllodes
respublica" by Prince Buonaparte, and still later, "Schlegelia calva,"
by Dr. Bernstein, who was so fortunate as to obtain fresh specimens in
Waigiou.

In this species the upper mantle is sulphur yellow, the lower one and
the wings pure red, the breast plumes dark green, and the lengthened
middle tail feathers much shorter than in the allied species. The most
curious difference is, however, that the top of the head is bald, the
bare skin being of a rich cobalt blue, crossed by several lines of black
velvety feathers.

It is about the same size as Diphyllodes speciosa, and is no doubt
entirely confined to the island of Waigiou. The female, as figured and
described by Dr. Bernstein, is very like that of Cicinnurus regius,
being similarly banded beneath; and we may therefore conclude that its
near ally, the "Magnificent," is at least equally plain in this sex, of
which specimens have not yet been obtained.

The Superb Bird of Paradise was first figured by Buffon, and was
named by Boddaert, Paradisea atra, from the black ground colour of its
plumage. It forms the genus Lophorina of Viellot, and is one of the
rarest and most brilliant of the whole group, being only known
front mutilated native skins. This bird is a little larger than the
Magnificent. The ground colour of the plumage is intense black, but with
beautiful bronze reflections on the neck, and the whole head scaled with
feathers of brilliant metallic green and blue. Over its breast it bears
a shield formed of narrow and rather stiff feathers, much elongated
towards the sides, of a pure bluish-green colour, and with a satiny
gloss. But a still more extraordinary ornament is that which springs
from the back of the neck,--a shield of a similar form to that on the
breast, but much larger, and of a velvety black colour, glossed with
bronze and purple. The outermost feathers of this shield are half
an inch longer than the wing, and when it is elevated it must, in
conjunction with the breast shield, completely change the form and whole
appearance of the bird. The bill is black, and the feet appear to be
yellow.

This wonderful little bird inhabits the interior of the northern
peninsula of New Guinea only. Neither I nor Mr. Allen could hear
anything of it in any of the islands or on any part of the coast. It is
true that it was obtained from the coast-natives by Lesson; but when
at Sorong in 1861, Mr. Allen learnt that it is only found three days'
journey in the interior. Owing to these "Black Birds of Paradise," as
they are called, not being so much valued as articles of merchandise,
they now seem to be rarely preserved by the natives, and it thus
happened that during several years spent on the coasts of New Guinea
and in the Moluccas I was never able to obtain a skin. We are therefore
quite ignorant of the habits of this bird, and also of its female,
though the latter is no doubt as plain and inconspicuous as in all the
other species of this family.

The Golden, or Six-shafted, Paradise Bird, is another rare species,
first figured by Buffon, and never yet obtained in perfect condition. It
was named by Boddaert, Paradisea sexpennis, and forms the genus
Parotia of Viellot. This wonderful bird is about the size of the female
Paradisea rubra. The plumage appear, at first sight black, but it glows
in certain light with bronze and deep purple. The throat and breast are
scaled with broad flat feathers of an intense golden hue, changing to
green and blue tints in certain lights. On the back of the head is a
broad recurved band of feathers, whose brilliancy is indescribable,
resembling the sheen of emerald and topaz rather than any organic
substance. Over the forehead is a large patch of pure white feathers,
which shine like satin; and from the sides of the head spring the six
wonderful feathers from which the bird receives its name. These are
slender wires, six inches long, with a small oval web at the extremity.
In addition to these ornaments, there is also an immense tuft of soft
feathers on each side of the breast, which when elevated must entirely
hide the wings, and give the bird au appearance of being double its real
bulk. The bill is black, short, and rather compressed, with the feathers
advancing over the nostrils, as in Cicinnurus regius. This singular and
brilliant bird inhabits the same region as the Superb Bird of Paradise,
and nothing whatever is known about it but what we can derive from an
examination of the skins preserved by the natives of New Guinea.

The Standard Wing, named Semioptera wallacei by Mr. G. R. Gray, is
an entirely new form of Bird of Paradise, discovered by myself in the
island of Batchian, and especially distinguished by a pair of long
narrow feathers of a white colour, which spring from among the short
plumes which clothe the bend of the wing, and are capable of being
erected at pleasure. The general colour of this bird is a delicate
olive-brown, deepening to a loud of bronzy olive in the middle of the
back, and changing to a delicate ashy violet with a metallic gloss, on
the crown of the head. The feathers, which cover the nostrils and extend
half-way down the beak, are loose and curved upwards. Beneath, it is
much more beautiful. The scale-like feathers of the breast are margined
with rich metallic blue-green, which colour entirely covers the throat
and sides of the neck, as well as the long pointed plumes which spring
from the sides of the breast, and extend nearly as far as the end of the
wings. The most curious feature of the bird, however, and one altogether
unique in the whole class, is found in the pair of long narrow delicate
feathers which spring from each wing close to the bend. On lifting the
wing-coverts they are seen to arise from two tubular horny sheaths,
which diverge from near the point of junction of the carpal bones. As
already described at p. 41, they are erectile, and when the bird
is excited are spread out at right angles to the wing and slightly
divergent. They are from six to six and a half inches long, the upper
one slightly exceeding the lower. The total length of the bird is eleven
inches. The bill is horny olive, the iris deep olive, and the feet
bright orange.

The female bird is remarkably plain, being entirely of a dull pale
earthy brown, with only a slight tinge of ashy violet on the head to
relieve its general monotony; and the young males exactly resemble her.
(See figures at p. 41.)

This bird, frequents the lower trees of the forests, and, like most
Paradise Birds, is in constant motion--flying from branch to branch,
clinging to the twigs and even to the smooth and vertical trunks almost
as easily as a woodpecker. It continually utters a harsh, creaking note,
somewhat intermediate between that of Paradisea apoda, and the more
musical cry of Cicinnurus regius. The males at short intervals open and
flutter their wings, erect the long shoulder feathers, and spread out
the elegant green breast shields.

The Standard Wing is found in Gilolo as well as in Batchian, and all
the specimens from the former island have the green breast shield rather
longer, the crown of the head darker violet, and the lower parts of the
body rather more strongly scaled with green. This is the only Paradise
Bird yet found in the Moluccan district, all the others being confined
to the Papuan Islands and North Australia.

We now come to the Epimachidae, or Long-billed Birds of Paradise, which,
as before stated, ought not to be separated from the Paradiseidae by the
intervention of any other birds. One of the most remarkable of these is
the Twelve-wired Paradise Bird, Paradises alba of Blumenbach, but now
placed in the genus Seleucides of Lesson.

This bird is about twelve inches long, of which the compressed and
curved beak occupies two inches. The colour of the breast and upper
surface appears at first sight nearly black, but a close examination
shows that no part of it is devoid of colour; and by holding it in
various lights, the most rich and glowing tints become visible. The
head, covered with short velvety feathers, which advance on the chic
much further than on the upper part of the beak, is of a purplish bronze
colour; the whole of the back and shoulders is rich bronzy green, while
the closed wings and tail are of the most brilliant violet purple, all
the plumage having a delicate silky gloss. The mass of feathers which
cover the breast is really almost black, with faint glosses of green
and purple, but their outer edges are margined with glittering bands of
emerald green. The whole lower part of the body is rich buffy yellow,
including the tuft of plumes which spring from the sides, and extend an
inch and a half beyond the tail. When skins are exposed to the light
the yellow fades into dull white, from which circumstance it derived its
specific name. About six of the innermost of these plumes on each side
have the midrib elongated into slender black wires, which bend at right
angles, and curve somewhat backwards to a length of about ten inches,
forming one of those extraordinary and fantastic ornaments with which
this group of birds abounds. The bill is jet black, and the feet
bright yellow. (See lower figure on the plate at the beginning of this
chapter).

The female, although not quite so plain a bird as in some other species,
presents none of the gay colours or ornamental plumage of the male. The
top of the head and back of the neck are black, the rest of the upper
parts rich reddish brown; while the under surface is entirely yellowish
ashy, somewhat blackish on the breast, and crossed throughout with
narrow blackish wavy bands.

The Seleucides alba is found in the island of Salwatty, and in the
north-western parts of New Guinea, where it frequents flowering trees,
especially sago-palms and pandani, sucking the flowers, round and
beneath which its unusually large and powerful feet enable it to cling.
Its motions are very rapid. It seldom rests more than a few moments on
one tree, after which it flies straight off, and with great swiftness,
to another. It has a loud shrill cry, to be heard a long way, consisting
of "Cah, cah," repeated five or six times in a descending scale, and at
the last note it generally flies away. The males are quite solitary in
their habits, although, perhaps, they assemble at pertain times like the
true Paradise Birds. All the specimens shot and opened by my assistant
Mr. Allen, who obtained this fine bird during his last voyage to New
Guinea, had nothing in their stomachs but a brown sweet liquid,
probably the nectar of the flowers on which they had been feeding. They
certainly, however, eat both fruit and insects, for a specimen which
I saw alive on board a Dutch steamer ate cockroaches and papaya fruit
voraciously. This bird had the curious habit of resting at noon with the
bill pointing vertically upwards. It died on the passage to Batavia, and
I secured the body and formed a skeleton, which shows indisputably that
it is really a Bird of Paradise. The tongue is very long and extensible,
but flat and little fibrous at the end, exactly like the true
Paradiseas.

In the island of Salwatty, the natives search in the forests till they
find the sleeping place of this bird, which they know by seeing its
dung upon the ground. It is generally in a low bushy tree. At night they
climb up the trap, and either shoot the birds with blunt arrows, or even
catch them alive with a cloth. In New Guinea they are caught by placing
snares on the trees frequented by them, in the same way as the Red
Paradise birds are caught in Waigiou, and which has already been
described at page 362.

The great Epimaque, or Long-tailed Paradise Bird (Epimachus magnus), is
another of these wonderful creatures, only known by the imperfect skins
prepared by the natives. In its dark velvety plumage, glowed with bronze
and purple, it resembles the Seleucides alba, but it bears a magnificent
tail more than two feet long, glossed on the upper surface with the most
intense opalescent blue. Its chief ornament, however, consists in the
group of broad plumes which spring from the sides of the breast, and
which are dilated at the extremity, and banded with the most vivid
metallic blue and green. The bill is long and curved, and the feet
black, and similar to those of the allied forms. The total length of
this fine bird is between three and four feet.

This splendid bird inhabits the mountains of New Guinea, in the same
district with the Superb and the Six-shafted Paradise Birds, and I was
informed is sometimes found in the ranges near the coast. I was several
times assured by different natives that this bird makes its nest in
a hole under ground, or under rocks, always choosing a place with two
apertures, so that it may enter at one and go out at the other. This is
very unlike what we should suppose to be the habits of the bird, but it
is not easy to conceive how the story originated if it is not true;
and all travellers know that native accounts of the habits of animals,
however strange they may seem, almost invariably turn out to be correct.

The Scale-breasted Paradise Bird (Epimachus magnificus of Cuvier) is now
generally placed with the Australian Rifle birds in the genus Ptiloris.
Though very beautiful, these birds are less strikingly decorated with
accessory plumage than the other species we have been describing, their
chief ornament being a more or less developed breastplate of stiff
metallic green feathers, and a small tuft of somewhat hairy plumes on
the sides of the breast. The back and wings of this species are of
an intense velvety black, faintly glossed in certain lights with rich
purple. The two broad middle tail feathers are opalescent green-blue
with a velvety surface, and the top of the head is covered with feathers
resembling scales of burnished steel. A large triangular space covering
the chin, throat, and breast, is densely scaled with feathers, having a
steel-blue or green lustre, and a silky feel. This is edged below with
a narrow band of black, followed by shiny bronzy green, below which the
body is covered with hairy feathers of a rich claret colour, deepening
to black at the tail. The tufts of side plumes somewhat resemble those
of the true Birds of Paradise, but are scanty, about as long as the
tail, and of a black colour. The sides of the head are rich violet, and
velvety feathers extend on each side of the beak over the nostrils.

I obtained at Dorey a young male of this bird, in a state of plumage
which is no doubt that of the adult female, as is the case in all the
allied species. The upper surface, wings, and tail are rich reddish
brown, while the under surface is of a pale ashy colour, closely barred
throughout with narrow wavy black bands. There is also a pale banded
stripe over the eye, and a long dusky stripe from the gape down each
side of the neck. This bird is fourteen inches long, whereas the native
skins of the adult male are only about ten inches, owing to the way
in which the tail is pushed in, so as to give as much prominence as
possible to the ornamental plumage of the breast.

At Cape York, in North Australia, there is a closely allied species,
Ptiloris alberti, the female of which is very similar to the young male
bird here described. The beautiful Rifle Birds of Australia, which
much resemble those Paradise Birds, are named Ptiloris paradiseus
and Ptiloris victories, The Scale-breasted Paradise Bird seems to be
confined to the mainland of New Guinea, and is less rare than several of
the other species.

There are three other New Guinea birds which are by some authors classed
with the Birds of Paradise, and which, being almost equally remarkable
for splendid plumage, deserve to be noticed here. The first is the
Paradise pie (Astrapia nigra of Lesson), a bird of the size of Paradises
rubra, but with a very long tail, glossed above with intense violet.
The back is bronzy black, the lower parts green, the throat and neck
bordered with loose broad feathers of an intense coppery hue, while on
the top of the head and neck they are glittering emerald green, All the
plumage round the head is lengthened and erectile, and when spread out
by the living bird must lave an effect hardly surpassed by any of the
true Paradise birds. The bill is black and the feet yellow. The Astrapia
seems to me to be somewhat intermediate between the Paradiseidae and
Epimachidae.

There is an allied species, having a bare carunculated head, which has
been called Paradigalla carunculata. It is believed to inhabit, with the
preceding, the mountainous, interior of New Guinea, but is exceedingly
rare, the only known specimen being in the Philadelphia Museum.

The Paradise Oriole is another beautiful bird, which is now sometimes
classed with the Birds of Paradise. It has been named Paradises aurea
and Oriolus aureus by the old naturalists, and is now generally
placed in the same genus as the Regent Bird of Australia (Sericulus
chrysocephalus). But the form of the bill and the character of the
plumage seem to me to be so different that it will have to form a
distinct genus. This bird is almost entirely yellow, with the exception
of the throat, the tail, and part of the wings and back, which are
black; but it is chiefly characterised by a quantity of long feathers of
an intense glossy orange colour, which cover its neck down to the middle
of the back, almost like the hackles of a game-cock.

This beautiful bird inhabits the mainland of New Guinea, and is also
found in Salwatty, but is so rare that I was only able to obtain one
imperfect native skin, and nothing whatever is known of its habits.

I will now give a list of all the Birds of Paradise yet known, with the
places they are believed to inhabit.

1. Paradisea apoda (The Great Paradise Bird). Aru Islands.

2. Paradisea papuana (The Lesser Paradise Bird). New Guinea. Mysol,
Jobie.

3. Paradisea rubra (The Red Paradise Bird). Waigiou.

4. Cicinnurus regius (The King Paradise Bird). New Guinea, Aru Islands,
Mysol, Salwatty.

5. Diphyllodes speciosa (The Magnificent). New Guinea, Mysol, Salwatty.

6. Diphyllodes wilsoni (The Red Magnificent). Waigiou.

7. Lophorina atra (The Superb). New Guinea.

8. Parotia sexpennis (The Golden Paradise Bird). New Guinea.

9. Semioptera wallacei (The Standard Wing). Batchian, Gilolo.

10. Epimachus magnus (The Long-tailed Paradise Bird). New Guinea

11. Seleucides albs (The Twelve-wired Paradise Bird).New Guinea,
Salwatty.

12. Ptiloris magnifica (The Scale-breasted Paradise Bird). New Guinea.

13. Ptiloris alberti (Prince Albert's Paradise Bird). North Australia.

14. Ptiloris Paradisea (The Rifle Bird). East Australia.

15. Ptiloris victoriae (The Victorian Rifle Bird). North-East Australia.

16. Astrapia nigra (The Paradise Pie). New Guinea.

17. Paradigalla carunculata (The Carunculated Paradise Pie). New Guinea.

18. (?) Sericulus aureus (The Paradise Oriole). New Guinea, Salwatty.

We see, therefore, that of the eighteen species which seem to deserve a
place among the Birds of Paradise, eleven are known to inhabit the great
island of New Guinea, eight of which are entirely confined to it and the
hardly separated island of Salwatty. But if we consider those islands
which are now united to New Guinea by a shallow sea to really form a
part of it, we shall find that fourteen of the Paradise Birds belong
to that country, while three inhabit the northern and eastern parts
of Australia, and one the Moluccas. All the more extraordinary and
magnificent species are, however, entirely confined to the Papuan
region.

Although I devoted so much time to a search after these wonderful birds,
I only succeeded myself in obtaining five species during a residence
of many months in the Aru Islands, New Guinea, and Waigiou. Mr. Allen's
voyage to Mysol did not procure a single additional species, but we
both heard of a place called Sorong, on the mainland of New Guinea,
near Salwatty, where we were told that all the kinds we desired could be
obtained. We therefore determined that he should visit this place, and
endeavour to penetrate into the interior among the natives, who actually
shoot and skin the Birds of Paradise. He went in the small prau I
had fitted up at Goram, and through the kind assistance of the Dutch
Resident at Ternate, a lieutenant and two soldiers were sent by the
Sultan of Tidore to accompany and protect him, and to assist him in
getting men and in visiting the interior.

Notwithstanding these precautions, Mr. Allen met with difficulties in
this voyage which we had neither of us encountered before. To understand
these, it is necessary to consider that the Birds of Paradise are an
article of commerce, and are the monopoly of the chiefs of the coast
villages, who obtain them at a low rate from the mountaineers, and sell
them to the Bugis traders. A portion is also paid every year as tribute
to the Sultan of Tidore. The natives are therefore very jealous of a
stranger, especially a European, interfering in their trade, and above
all of going into the interior to deal with the mountaineers themselves.
They of course think he will raise the prices in the interior, and
lessen the supply on the coast, greatly to their disadvantage; they also
think their tribute will be raised if a European takes back a quantity
of the rare sorts; and they have besides a vague and very natural dread
of some ulterior object in a white man's coming at so much trouble and
expense to their country only to get Birds of Paradise, of which they
know he can buy plenty (of the common yellow ones which alone they
value) at Ternate, Macassar, or Singapore.

It thus happened that when Mr. Allen arrived at Sorong, and explained
his intention of going to seek Birds of Paradise in the interior,
innumerable objections were raised. He was told it was three or four
days' journey over swamps and mountains; that the mountaineers were
savages and cannibals, who would certainly kill him; and, lastly, that
not a man in the village could be found who dare go with him. After some
days spent in these discussions, as he still persisted in making the
attempt, and showed them his authority from the Sultan of Tidore to go
where he pleased and receive every assistance, they at length provided
him with a boat to go the first part of the journey up a river; at the
same time, however, they sent private orders to the interior villages
to refuse to sell any provisions, so as to compel him to return. On
arriving at the village where they were to leave the river and strike
inland, the coast people returned, leaving Mr. Allen to get on as
he could. Here he called on the Tidore lieutenant to assist him, and
procure men as guides and to carry his baggage to the villages of the
mountaineers. This, however, was not so easily done. A quarrel took
place, and the natives, refusing to obey the imperious orders of the
lieutenant, got out their knives and spears to attack him and his
soldiers; and Mr. Allen himself was obliged to interfere to protect
those who had come to guard him. The respect due to a white man and the
timely distribution of a few presents prevailed; and, on showing
the knives, hatchets, and beads he was willing to give to those who
accompanied him, peace was restored, and the next day, travelling over
a frightfully rugged country, they reached the villages of the
mountaineers. Here Mr. Allen remained a month without any interpreter
through whom he could understand a word or communicate a want. However,
by signs and presents and a pretty liberal barter, he got on very well,
some of them accompanying him every day in the forest to shoot, and
receiving a small present when he was successful.

In the grand matter of the Paradise Birds, however, little was done.
Only one additional species was found, the Seleucides alba, of which
he had already obtained a specimen in Salwatty; but he learnt that the
other kinds' of which he showed them drawings, were found two or three
days' journey farther in the interior. When I sent my men from Dorey to
Amberbaki, they heard exactly the same story--that the rarer sorts
were only found several days' journey in the interior, among rugged
mountains, and that the skins were prepared by savage tribes who had
never even been seen by any of the coast people.

It seems as if Nature had taken precautions that these her choicest
treasures should not be made too common, and thus be undervalued. This
northern coast of New Guinea is exposed to the full swell of the Pacific
Ocean, and is rugged and harbourless. The country is all rocky and
mountainous, covered everywhere with dense forests, offering in its
swamps and precipices and serrated ridges an almost impassable barrier
to the unknown interior; and the people are dangerous savages, in the
very lowest stage of barbarism. In such a country, and among such a
people, are found these wonderful productions of Nature, the Birds
of Paradise, whose exquisite beauty of form and colour and strange
developments of plumage are calculated to excite the wonder and
admiration of the most civilized and the most intellectual of mankind,
and to furnish inexhaustible materials for study to the naturalist, and
for speculation to the philosopher.

Thus ended my search after these beautiful birds. Five voyages to
different parts of the district they inhabit, each occupying in its
preparation and execution the larger part of a year, produced me only
five species out of the fourteen known to exist in the New Guinea
district. The kinds obtained are those that inhabit the coasts of New
Guinea and its islands, the remainder seeming to be strictly confined
to the central mountain-ranges of the northern peninsula; and our
researches at Dorey and Amberbaki, near one end of this peninsula, and
at Salwatty and Sorong, near the other, enable me to decide with some
certainty on the native country of these rare and lovely birds, good
specimens of which have never yet been seen in Europe.

It must be considered as somewhat extraordinary that, during five years'
residence and travel in Celebes, the Moluccas, and New Guinea, I should
never have been able to purchase skins of half the species which Lesson,
forty years ago, obtained during a few weeks in the same countries. I
believe that all, except the common species of commerce, are now much
more difficult to obtain than they were even twenty years ago; and I
impute it principally to their having been sought after by the Dutch
officials through the Sultan of Tidore. The chiefs of the annual
expeditions to collect tribute have had orders to get all the rare sorts
of Paradise Birds; and as they pay little or nothing for them (it being
sufficient to say they are for the Sultan), the head men of the
coast villages would for the future refuse to purchase them from the
mountaineers, and confine themselves instead to the commoner species,
which are less sought after by amateurs, but are a more profitable
merchandise. The same causes frequently lead the inhabitants of
uncivilized countries to conceal minerals or other natural products with
which they may become acquainted, from the fear of being obliged to pay
increased tribute, or of bringing upon themselves a new and oppressive
labour.



CHAPTER XXXIX. THE NATURAL HISTORY OF THE PAPUAN ISLANDS.

NEW GUINEA, with the islands joined to it by a shallow sea, constitute
the Papuan group, characterised by a very close resemblance in their
peculiar forms of life. Having already, in my chapters on the Aru
Islands and on the Birds of Paradise, given some details of the natural
history of this district, I shall here confine myself to a general
sketch of its animal productions, and of their relations to those of the
rest of the world.

New Guinea is perhaps the largest island on the globe, being a little
larger than Borneo. It is nearly fourteen hundred miles long, and in the
widest part four hundred broad, and seems to be everywhere covered with
luxuriant forests. Almost everything that is yet known of its natural
productions comes from the north-western peninsula, and a few islands
grouped around it. These do not constitute a tenth part of the area of
the whole island, and are so cut off from it, that their fauna may well
he somewhat different; yet they have produced us (with a very partial
exploration) no less than two hundred and fifty species of land birds,
almost all unknown elsewhere, and comprising some of the most curious
and most beautiful of the feathered tribes. It is needless to say how
much interest attaches to the far larger unknown portion of this
great island, the greatest terra incognita that still remains for the
naturalist to explore, and the only region where altogether new and
unimagined forms of life may perhaps be found. There is now, I am
happy to say, some chance that this great country will no longer
remain absolutely unknown to us. The Dutch Government have granted
well-equipped steamer to carry a naturalist (Mr. Rosenberg, already
mentioned in this work) and assistants to New Guinea, where they are
to spend some years in circumnavigating the island, ascending its
large rivers a< far as possible into the interior, and making extensive
collections of its natural productions.

The Mammalia of New Guinea and the adjacent islands, yet discovered,
are only seventeen in number. Two of these are bats, one is a pig of a
peculiar species (Sus papuensis), and the rest are all marsupials. The
bats are, no doubt, much more numerous, but there is every reason to
believe that whatever new land Mammalia man be discovered will belong
to the marsupial order. One of these is a true kangaroo, very similar
to some of middle-sized kangaroos of Australia, and it is remarkable as
being the first animal of the kind ever seen by Europeans. It inhabits
Mysol and the Aru Islands (an allied species being found in New Guinea),
and was seen and described by Le Brun in 1714, from living specimens at
Batavia. A much more extraordinary creature is the tree-kangaroo, two
species of which are known from New Guinea. These animals do not differ
very strikingly in form from the terrestrial kangaroos, and appear to be
but imperfectly adapted to an arboreal life, as they move rather slowly,
and do not seem to have a very secure footing on the limb of a tree. The
leaping power of the muscular tail is lost, and powerful claws have been
acquired to assist in climbing, but in other respects the animal seems
better adapted to walls on terra firma. This imperfect adaptation may
be due to the fact of there being no carnivore in New Guinea, and no
enemies of any kind from which these animals have to escape by rapid
climbing. Four species of Cuscus, and the small flying opossum, also
inhabit New Guinea; and there are five other smaller marsupials, one of
which is the size of a rat, and takes its place by entering houses and
devouring provisions.

The birds of New Guinea offer the greatest possible contrast to the
Mammalia, since they are more numerous, more beautiful, and afford more
new, curious, and elegant forms than those of any other island on the
globe. Besides the Birds of Paradise, which we have already sufficiently
considered, it possesses a number of other curious birds, which in the
eyes of the ornithologist almost serves to distinguish it as one of the
primary divisions of the earth. Among its thirty species of parrots are
the Great Pluck Cockatoo, and the little rigid-tailed Nasiterna, the
giant and the dwarf of the whole tribe. The bare-headed Dasyptilus
is one of the most singular parrots known; while the beautiful little
long-tailed Charmosyna, and the great variety of gorgeously-coloured
lories, have no parallels elsewhere. Of pigeons it possesses about forty
distinct species, among which are the magnificent crowned pigeons, now
so well known in our aviaries, and pre-eminent both for size and beauty;
the curious Trugon terrestris, which approaches the still more strange
Didunculus of Samoa; and a new genus (Henicophaps), discovered by
myself, which possesses a very long and powerful bill, quite unlike that
of any other pigeon. Among its sixteen kingfishers, it possesses the
carious hook-billed Macrorhina, and a red and blue Tanysiptera, the most
beautiful of that beautiful genus. Among its perching birds are the fine
genus of crow-like starlings, with brilliant plumage (Manucodia); the
carious pale-coloured crow (Gymnocorvus senex); the abnormal red and
black flycatcher (Peltops blainvillii); the curious little boat-billed
flycatchers (Machaerirhynchus); and the elegant blue flycatcher-wrens
(Todopsis).

The naturalist will obtain a clearer idea of the variety and interest of
the productions of this country, by the statement, that its land birds
belong to 108 genera, of which 20 are exclusively characteristic of it;
while 35 belong to that limited area which includes the Moluccas and
North Australia, and whose species of these genera have been entirely
derived from New Guinea. About one-half of the New Guinea genera are
found also in Australia, about one-third in India and the Indo-Malay
islands.

A very curious fact, not hitherto sufficiently noticed, is the
appearance of a pure Malay element in the birds of New Guinea. We
find two species of Eupetes, a curious Malayan genus allied to the
forked-tail water-chats; two of Alcippe, an Indian and Malay wren-like
form; an Arachnothera, quite resembling the spider-catching honeysuckers
of Malacca; two species of Gracula, the Mynahs of India; and a curious
little black Prionochilus, a saw-billed fruit pecker, undoubtedly allied
to the Malayan form, although perhaps a distinct genus. Now not one
of these birds, or anything allied to them, occurs in the Moluccas, or
(with one exception) in Celebes or Australia; and as they are most of
them birds of short flight, it is very difficult to conceive how or when
they could have crossed the space of more than a thousand miles, which
now separates them from their nearest allies. Such facts point to
changes of land and sea on a large scale, and at a rate which, measured
by the time required for a change of species, must be termed rapid.
By speculating on such changes, we may easily see how partial waves
of immigration may have entered New Guinea, and how all trace of their
passage may have been obliterated by the subsequent disappearance of the
intervening land.

There is nothing that the study of geology teaches us that is more
certain or more impressive than the extreme instability of the earth's
surface. Everywhere beneath our feet we find proofs that what is land
has been sea, and that where oceans now spread out has once been land;
and that this change from sea to land, and from land to sea, has taken
place, not once or twice only, but again and again, during countless
ages of past time. Now the study of the distribution of animal life upon
the present surface of the earth, causes us to look upon this constant
interchange of land and sea--this making and unmaking of continents,
this elevation and disappearance of islands--as a potent reality, which
has always and everywhere been in progress, and has been the main agent
in determining the manner in which living things are now grouped and
scattered over the earth's surface. And when we continually come upon
such little anomalies of distribution as that just now described, we
find the only rational explanation of them, in those repeated elevations
and depressions which have left their record in mysterious, but still
intelligible characters on the face of organic nature.

The insects of New Guinea are less known than the birds, but they seem
almost equally remarkable for fine forms and brilliant colours. The
magnificent green and yellow Ornithopterae are abundant, and have most
probably spread westward from this point as far as India. Among the
smaller butterflies are several peculiar genera of Nymphalidae and
Lycaenidae, remarkable for their large size, singular markings, or
brilliant coloration. The largest and most beautiful of the clear-winged
moths (Cocytia d'urvillei) is found here, as well as the large and
handsome green moth (Nyctalemon orontes). The beetles furnish us with
many species of large size, and of the most brilliant metallic lustre,
among which the Tmesisternus mirabilis, a longicorn beetle of a golden
green colour; the excessively brilliant rose-chafers, Lomaptera wallacei
and Anacamptorhina fulgida; one of the handsomest of the Buprestidae,
Calodema wallacei; and several fine blue weevils of the genus Eupholus,
are perhaps the most conspicuous. Almost all the other orders furnish us
with large or extraordinary forms. The curious horned flies have already
been mentioned; and among the Orthoptera the great shielded grasshoppers
are the most remarkable. The species here figured (Megalodon ensifer)
has the thorax covered by a large triangular horny shield, two and a
half inches long, with serrated edges, a somewhat wavy, hollow surface,
and a faun median line, so as very closely to resemble a leaf. The
glossy wing-coverts (when fully expanded, more than nine inches across)
are of a fine green colour and so beautifully veined as to imitate
closely some of the large shining tropical leaves. The body is short,
and terminated in the female by a long curved sword-like ovipositor (not
seen in the cut), and the legs are all long and strongly-spined. These
insects are sluggish in their motions, depending for safety on their
resemblance to foliage, their horny shield and wing-coverts, and their
spiny legs.

The large islands to the east of New Guinea are very little known, but
the occurrence of crimson lories, which are quite absent from Australia,
and of cockatoos allied to those of New Guinea and the Moluccas, shows
that they belong to the Papuan group; and we are thus able to define the
Malay Archipelago as extending eastward to the Solomon's Islands. New
Caledonia and the New Hebrides, on the other hand, seem more nearly
allied to Australia; and the rest of the islands of the Pacific, though
very poor in all forms of life, possess a few peculiarities which
compel us to class them as a separate group. Although as a matter
of convenience I have always separated the Moluccas as a distinct
zoological group from New Guinea, I have at the same time pointed out
that its fauna was chiefly derived from that island, just as that
of Timor was chiefly derived from Australia. If we were dividing the
Australian region for zoological purposes alone, we should form three
great groups: one comprising Australia, Timor, and Tasmania; another
New Guinea, with the islands from Bouru to the Solomon's group; and the
third comprising the greater part of the Pacific Islands.

The relation of the New Guinea fauna to that of Australia is very close.
It is best marked in the Mammalia by the abundance of marsupials, and
the almost complete absence of all other terrestrial forms. In birds
it is less striking, although still very clear, for all the remarkable
old-world forms which are absent from the one are equally so from the
other, such as Pheasants, Grouse, Vultures, and Woodpeckers; while
Cockatoos, Broad-tailed Parrots, Podargi, and the great families of the
Honeysuckers and Brush-turkeys, with many others, comprising no less
than twenty-four genera of land-birds, are common to both countries, and
are entirely confined to them.

When we consider the wonderful dissimilarity of the two regions in all
those physical conditions which were once supposed to determine the
forms of life-Australia, with its open plains, stony deserts, dried up
rivers, and changeable temperate climate; New Guinea, with its luxuriant
forests, uniformly hot, moist, and evergreen--this great similarity in
their productions is almost astounding, and unmistakeably points to
a common origin. The resemblance is not nearly so strongly marked in
insects, the reason obviously being, that this class of animals are much
more immediately dependent on vegetation and climate than are the
more highly organized birds and Mammalia. Insects also have far more
effective means of distribution, and have spread widely into every
district favourable to their development and increase. The giant
Ornithopterae have thus spread from New Guinea over the whole
Archipelago, and as far as the base of the Himalayas; while the elegant
long-horned Anthribidae have spread in the opposite direction from
Malacca to New Guinea, but owing to unfavourable conditions have not
been able to establish themselves in Australia. That country, on the
other hand, has developed a variety of flower-haunting Chafers and
Buprestidae, and numbers of large and curious terrestrial Weevils,
scarcely any of which are adapted to the damp gloomy forests of New
Guinea, where entirely different forms are to be found. There are,
however, some groups of insects, constituting what appear to be the
remains of the ancient population of the equatorial parts of the
Australian region, which are still almost entirely confined to it. Such
are the interesting sub-family of Longicorn coleoptera--Tmesisternitae;
one of the best-marked genera of Buprestidae--Cyphogastra; and the
beautiful weevils forming the genus Eupholus. Among butterflies we have
the genera Mynes, Hypocista, and Elodina, and the curious eye-spotted
Drusilla, of which last a single species is found in Java, but in no
other of the western islands.

The facilities for the distribution of plants are still greater than
they are for insects, and it is the opinion of eminent botanists,
that no such clearly-defined regions pan be marked out in botany as in
zoology. The causes which tend to diffusion are here most powerful, and
have led to such intermingling of the floras of adjacent regions that
none but broad and general divisions can now be detected. These remarks
have an important bearing on the problem of dividing the surface of the
earth into great regions, distinguished by the radical difference of
their natural productions. Such difference we now know to be the direct
result of long-continued separation by more or less impassable barriers;
and as wide oceans and great contrast: of temperature are the most
complete barriers to the dispersal of all terrestrial forms of life,
the primary divisions of the earth should in the main serve for all
terrestrial organisms. However various may be the effects of climate,
however unequal the means of distribution; these will never altogether
obliterate the radical effects of long-continued isolation; and it is my
firm conviction, that when the botany and the entomology of New Guinea
and the surrounding islands become as well known as are their mammals
and birds, these departments of nature will also plainly indicate the
radical distinctions of the Indo-Malayan and Austro-Malayan regions of
the great Malay Archipelago.




CHAPTER XL. THE RACES OF MAN IN THE MALAY ARCHIPELAGO.

PROPOSE to conclude this account of my Eastern travels, with a short
statement of my views as to the races of man which inhabit the
various parts of the Archipelago, their chief physical and mental
characteristics, their affinities with each other and with surrounding
tribes, their migrations, and their probable origin.

Two very strongly contrasted races inhabit the Archipelago--the Malays,
occupying almost exclusively the larger western half of it, and the
Papuans, whose headquarters are New Guinea and several of the adjacent
islands. Between these in locality, are found tribes who are also
intermediate in their chief characteristics, and it is sometimes a nice
point to determine whether they belong to one or the other race, or have
been formed by a mixture of the two.

The Malay is undoubtedly the most important of these two races, as it
is the one which is the most civilized, which has come most into contact
with Europeans, and which alone has any place in history. What may
be called the true Malay races, as distinguished from others who
have merely a Malay element in their language, present a considerable
uniformity of physical and mental characteristics, while there are very
great differences of civilization and of language. They consist of four
great, and a few minor semi-civilized tribes, and a number of others who
may be termed savages. The Malays proper inhabit the Malay peninsula,
and almost all the coast regions of Borneo and Sumatra. They all
speak the Malay language, or dialects of it; they write in the Arabic
character, and are Mahometans in religion. The Javanese inhabit Java,
part of Sumatra, Madura, Bali, and Bart of Lombock. They speak the
Javanese and Kawi languages, which they write in a native character.
They are now Mahometans in Java, but Brahmins in Bali and Lombock. The
Bugis are the inhabitants of the greater parts of Celebes, and there
seems to be an allied people in Sumbawa. They speak the Bugis and
Macassar languages, with dialects, and have two different native
characters in which they write these. They are all Mahometans. The
fourth great race is that of the Tagalas in the Philippine Islands,
about whom, as I did not visit those Islands, I shall say little. Many
of them are now Christians, and speak Spanish as well as their native
tongue, the Tagala. The Moluccan-Malays, who inhabit chiefly Ternate,
Tidore, Batchian, and Amboyna, may be held to form a fifth division of
semi-civilized Malays. They are all Mahometans, but they speak a variety
of curious languages, which seem compounded of Bugis and Javanese, with
the languages of the savage tribes of the Moluccas.

The savage Malays are the Dyaks of Borneo; the Battaks and other wild
tribes of Sumatra; the Jakuns of the Malay Peninsula; the aborigines of
Northern Celebes, of the Sula island, and of part of Bouru.

The colour of all these varied tribes is a light reddish brown, with
more or less of an olive tinge, not varying in any important degree
over an extent of country as large as all Southern Europe. The hair is
equally constant, being invariably black and straight, and of a rather
coarse texture, so that any lighter tint, or any wave or curl in it, is
an almost certain proof of the admixture of some foreign blood. The face
is nearly destitute of beard, and the breast and limbs are free from
hair. The stature is tolerably equal, and is always considerably below
that of the average European; the body is robust, the breast well
developed, the feet small, thick, and short, the hands small and rather
delicate. The face is a little broad, and inclined to be flat; the
forehead is rather rounded, the brows low, the eyes black and very
slightly oblique; the nose is rather small, not prominent, but straight
and well-shaped, the apex a little rounded, the nostrils broad and
slightly exposed; the cheek-bones are rather prominent, the mouth large,
the lips broad and well cut, but not protruding, the chin round and
well-formed.

In this description there seems little to object to on the score of
beauty, and yet on the whole the Malays are certainly not handsome. In
youth, however, they are often very good-looking, and many of the boys
and girls up to twelve or fifteen years of age are very pleasing, and
some have countenances which are in their way almost perfect. I am
inclined to think they lose much of their good looks by bad habits
and irregular living. At a very early age they chew betel and tobacco
almost incessantly; they suffer much want and exposure in their
fishing and other excursions; their lives are often passed in alternate
starvation and feasting, idleness and excessive labour,--and this
naturally produces premature old age and harshness of features.

In character the Malay is impassive. He exhibits a reserve, diffidence,
and even bashfulness, which is in some degree attractive, and leads the
observer to thinly that the ferocious and bloodthirsty character imputed
to the race must be grossly exaggerated. He is not demonstrative. His
feelings of surprise, admiration, or fear, are never openly manifested,
and are probably not strongly felt. He is slow and deliberate in speech,
and circuitous in introducing the subject he has come expressly to
discuss. These are the main features of his moral nature, and exhibit
themselves in every action of his life.

Children and women are timid, and scream and run at the unexpected sight
of a European. In the company of men they are silent, and are generally
quiet and obedient. When alone the Malay is taciturn; he neither
talks nor sings to himself. When several are paddling in a canoe, they
occasionally chant a monotonous and plaintive song. He is cautious of
giving offence to his equals. He does not quarrel easily about money
matters; dislikes asking too frequently even for payment of his just
debts, and will often give them up altogether rather than quarrel with
his debtor. Practical joking is utterly repugnant to his disposition;
for he is particularly sensitive to breaches of etiquette, or any
interference with the personal liberty of himself or another. As an
example, I may mention that I have often found it very difficult to get
one Malay servant to waken another. He will call as loud as he can, but
will hardly touch, much less shake his comrade. I have frequently had to
waken a hard sleeper myself when on a land or sea journey.

The higher classes of Malays are exceedingly polite, and have all
the quiet ease and dignity of the best-bred Europeans. Yet this is
compatible with a reckless cruelty and contempt of human life, which
is the dark side of their character. It is not to be wondered at,
therefore, that different persons give totally opposite accounts of
them--one praising them for their soberness, civility, and good-nature;
another abusing them for their deceit, treachery, and cruelty. The old
traveller Nicolo Conti, writing in 1430, says: "The inhabitants of Java
and Sumatra exceed every other people in cruelty. They regard killing a
man as a mere jest; nor is any punishment allotted for such a deed. If
any one purchase a new sword, and wish to try it, he will thrust it
into the breast of the first person he meets. The passers-by examine the
wound, and praise the skill of the person who inflicted it, if he thrust
in the weapon direct." Yet Drake says of the south of Java: "The people
(as are their kings) are a very loving, true, and just-dealing people;"
and Mr. Crawfurd says that the Javanese, whom he knew thoroughly, are "a
peaceable, docile, sober, simple, and industrious people." Barbosa, on
the other hand, who saw them at Malacca about 1660, says: "They are
a people of great ingenuity, very subtle in all their dealings; very
malicious, great deceivers, seldom speaking the truth; prepared to do
all manner of wickedness, and ready to sacrifice their lives."

The intellect of the Malay race seems rather deficient. They are
incapable of anything beyond the simplest combinations of ideas, and
have little taste or energy for the acquirement of knowledge. Their
civilization, such as it is, does not seem to be indigenous, as it
is entirely confined to those nations who have been converted to the
Mahometan or Brahminical religions.

I will now give an equally brief sketch of the other great race of the
Malay Archipelago, the Papuan.

The typical Papuan race is in many respects the very opposite of the
Malay, and it has hitherto been very imperfectly described. The colour
of the body is a deep sooty-brown or black, sometimes approaching, but
never quite equalling, the jet-black of some negro races. It varies
in tint, however, more than that of the Malay, and is sometimes a
dusky-brown. The hair is very peculiar, being harsh, dry, and frizzly,
growing in little tufts or curls, which in youth are very short and
compact, but afterwards grow out to a considerable length, forming the
compact frizzled mop which is the Papuans' pride and glory. The face is
adorned with a beard of the same frizzly nature as the hair of the head.
The arms, legs, and breast are also more or less clothed with hair of a
similar nature.

In stature the Papuan decidedly surpasses the Malay, and is perhaps
equal, or even superior, to the average of Europeans. The legs are long
and thin, and the hands and feet larger than in the Malays. The face is
somewhat elongated, the forehead flatfish, the brows very prominent;
the nose is large, rather arched and high, the base thick, the nostrils
broad, with the aperture hidden, owing to the tip of the nose being
elongated; the mouth is large, the lips thick and protuberant. The face
has thus an altogether more European aspect than in the Malay, owing
to the large nose; and the peculiar form of this organ, with the more
prominent brows and the character of the hair on the head, face,
and body, enable us at a glance to distinguish the two races. I have
observed that most of these characteristic features are as distinctly
visible in children of ten or twelve years old as in adults, and the
peculiar form of the nose is always shown in the figures which they
carve for ornaments to their houses, or as charms to wear round their
necks.

The moral characteristics of the Papuan appear to me to separate him as
distinctly from the Malay as do his form and features. He is impulsive
and demonstrative in speech and action. His emotions and passions
express themselves in shouts and laughter, in yells and frantic
leapings. Women and children take their share in every discussion, and
seem little alarmed at the sight of strangers and Europeans.

Of the intellect of this race it is very difficult to judge, but I
am inclined to rate it somewhat higher than that of the Malays,
notwithstanding the fact that the Papuans have never yet made any
advance towards civilization. It must be remembered, however, that for
centuries the Malays have been influenced by Hindoo, Chinese, and Arabic
immigration, whereas the Papuan race has only been subjected to the very
partial and local influence of Malay traders. The Papuan has much more
vital energy, which would certainly greatly assist his intellectual
development. Papuan slaves show no inferiority of intellect, compared
with Malays, but rather the contrary; and in the Moluccas they are
often promoted to places of considerable trust. The Papuan has a greater
feeling for art than the Malay. He decorates his canoe, his house, and
almost every domestic utensil with elaborate carving, a habit which is
rarely found among tribes of the Malay race.

In the affections and moral sentiments, on the other hand, the Papuans
seem very deficient. In the treatment of their children they are often
violent and cruel; whereas the Malays are almost invariably kind and
gentle, hardly ever interfering at all with their children's pursuits
and amusements, and giving them perfect liberty at whatever age they
wish to claim it. But these very peaceful relations between parents
and children are no doubt, in a great measure, due to the listless and
apathetic character of the race, which never leads the younger members
into serious opposition to the elders; while the harsher discipline of
the Papuans may be chiefly due to that greater vigour and energy of
mind which always, sooner or later, leads to the rebellion of the
weaker against the stronger,--the people against their rulers, the slave
against his master, or the child against its parent.

It appears, therefore, that, whether we consider their physical
conformation, their moral characteristics, or their intellectual
capacities, the Malay and Papuan races offer remarkable differences
and striking contrasts. The Malay is of short stature, brown-skinned,
straight-haired, beardless, and smooth-bodied. The Papuan is taller, is
black-skinned, frizzly-haired, bearded, and hairy-bodied. The former
is broad-faced, has a small nose, and flat eyebrows; the latter is
long-faced, has a large and prominent nose, and projecting eyebrows. The
Malay is bashful, cold, undemonstrative, and quiet; the Papuan is bold,
impetuous, excitable, and noisy. The former is grave and seldom laughs;
the latter is joyous and laughter-loving,--the one conceals his
emotions, the other displays them.

Having thus described in some detail, the great physical, intellectual,
and moral differences between the Malays and Papuans, we have to
consider the inhabitants of the numerous islands which do not agree very
closely with either of these races. The islands of Obi, Batchian, and
the three southern peninsulas of Gilolo, possess no true indigenous
population; but the northern peninsula is inhabited by a native race,
the so-called Alfuros of Sahoe and Galela. These people are quite
distinct from the Malays, and almost equally so from the Papuans. They
are tall and well-made, with Papuan features, and curly hair; they are
bearded and hairy-limbed, but quite as light in colour as the Malays.
They are an industrious and enterprising race, cultivating rice and
vegetables, and indefatigable in their search after game, fish, tripang,
pearls, and tortoiseshell.

In the great island of Ceram there is also an indigenous race very
similar to that of Northern Gilolo. Bourn seems to contain two distinct
races,--a shorter, round-faced people, with a Malay physiognomy, who may
probably have come from Celebes by way of the Sula islands; and a taller
bearded race, resembling that of Ceram.

Far south of the Moluccas lies the island of Timor, inhabited by tribes
much nearer to the true Papuan than those of the Moluccas.

The Timorese of the interior are dusky brown or blackish, with bushy
frizzled hair, and the long Papuan nose. They are of medium height,
and rather slender figures. The universal dress is a long cloth twisted
round the waist, the fringed ends of which hang below the knee. The
people are said to be great thieves, and the tribes are always at war
with each other, but they are not very courageous or bloodthirsty. The
custom of "tabu," called here "pomali," is very general, fruit trees,
houses, crop, and property of all kinds being protected from depredation
by this ceremony, the reverence for which is very great. A palm branch
stuck across an open door, showing that the house is tabooed, is a more
effectual guard against robbery than any amount of locks and bars. The
houses in Timor are different from those of most of the other islands;
they seem all roof, the thatch overhanging the low walls and reaching
the ground, except where it is cut away for an entrance. In some parts
of the west end of Timor, and on the little island of Semau, the houses
more resemble those of the Hottentots, being egg-shaped, very small, and
with a door only about three feet high. These are built on the ground,
while those of the eastern districts art, raised a few feet on posts.
In their excitable disposition, loud voices, and fearless demeanour, the
Timorese closely resemble the people of New Guinea.

In the islands west of Timor, as far as Flores and Sandalwood Island, a
very similar race is found, which also extends eastward to Timor-laut,
where the true Papuan race begins to appear. The small islands of
Savu and Rotti, however, to the west of Timor, are very remarkable
in possessing a different and, in some respects, peculiar race. These
people are very handsome, with good features, resembling in many
characteristics the race produced by the mixture of the Hindoo or Arab
with the Malay. They are certainly distinct from the Timorese or Papuan
races, and must be classed in the western rather than the eastern
ethnological division of the Archipelago.

The whole of the great island of New Guinea, the Ke and Aru Islands,
with Mysol, Salwatty, and Waigiou, are inhabited almost exclusively by
the typical Papuans. I found no trace of any other tribes inhabiting the
interior of New Guinea, but the coast people are in some places mixed
with the browner races of the Moluccas. The same Papuan race seems to
extend over the islands east of New Guinea as far as the Fijis.

There remain to be noticed the black woolly-haired races of the
Philippines and the Malay peninsula, the former called "Negritos," and
the latter "Semangs." I have never seen these people myself, but from
the numerous accurate descriptions of them that have been published,
I have had no difficulty in satisfying myself that they have little
affinity or resemblance to the Papuans, with which they have been
hitherto associated. In most important characters they differ more from
the Papuan than they do from the Malay. They are dwarfs in stature, only
averaging four feet six inches to four feet eight inches high, or eight
inches less than the Malays; whereas the Papuans are decidedly taller
than the Malays. The nose is invariably represented as small, flattened,
or turned up at the apex, whereas the most universal character of the
Papuan race is to have the nose prominent and large, with the apex
produced downwards, as it is invariably represented in their own rude
idols. The hair of these dwarfish races agrees with that of the Papuans,
but so it does with that of the negroes of Africa. The Negritos and the
Semangs agree very closely in physical characteristics with each other
and with the Andaman Islanders, while they differ in a marked manner
from every Papuan race.

A careful study of these varied races, comparing them with those of
Eastern Asia, the Pacific Islands, and Australia, has led me to adopt a
comparatively simple view as to their origin and affinities.

If we draw a line (see Physical Map, Vol. 1. p. 14), commencing to
the east of the Philippine Islands, thence along the western coast of
Gilolo, through the island of Bouru, and curving round the west end of
Mores, then bending back by Sandalwood Island to take in Rotti, we
shall divide the Archipelago into two portions, the races of which have
strongly marked distinctive peculiarities. This line will separate the
Malayan and all the Asiatic races, from the Papuans and all that inhabit
the Pacific; and though along the line of junction intermigration and
commixture have taken place, yet the division is on the whole almost as
well defined and strongly contrasted, as is the corresponding zoological
division of the Archipelago, into an Indo-Malayan and Austro-Malayan
region.

I must briefly explain the reasons that have led me to consider this
division of the Oceanic races to be a true and natural one. The Malayan
race, as a whole, undoubtedly very closely resembles the East Asian
populations, from Siam to Mandchouria. I was much struck with this, when
in the island of Bali I saw Chinese traders who had adopted the costume
of that country, and who could then hardly be distinguished from Malays;
and, on the other hand, I have seen natives of Java who, as far as
physiognomy was concerned, would pass very well for Chinese. Then,
again, we have the most typical of the Malayan tribes inhabiting a
portion of the Asiatic continent itself, together with those great
islands which, possessing the same species of large Mammalia with
the adjacent parts of the continent, have in all probability formed a
connected portion of Asia during the human period. The Negritos are, no
doubt, quite a distinct race from the Malay; but yet, as some of them
inhabit a portion of the continent, and others the Andaman Islands
in the Bay of Bengal, they must be considered to have had, in all
probability, an Asiatic rather than a Polynesian origin.

Now, turning to the eastern parts of the Archipelago, I find, by
comparing my own observations with those of the most trustworthy
travellers and missionaries, that a race identical in all its chief
features with the Papuan, is found in all the islands as far east as the
Fijis; beyond this the brown Polynesian race, or some intermediate type,
is spread everywhere over the Pacific. The descriptions of these latter
often agree exactly with the characters of the brown indigenes of Gilolo
and Ceram.

It is to be especially remarked that the brown and the black Polynesian
races closely resemble each other. Their features are almost identical,
so that portraits of a New Zealander or Otaheitan will often serve
accurately to represent a Papuan or Timorese, the darker colour and more
frizzly hair of the latter being the only differences. They are both
tall races. They agree in their love of art and the style of
their decorations. They are energetic, demonstrative, joyous, and
laughter-loving, and in all these particulars they differ widely from
the Malay.

I believe, therefore, that the numerous intermediate forms that occur
among the countless islands of the Pacific, are not merely the result of
a mixture of these races, but are, to some extent, truly intermediate or
transitional; and that the brown and the black, the Papuan, the natives
of Gilolo and Ceram, the Fijian, the inhabitants of the Sandwich Islands
and those of New Zealand, are all varying forms of one great Oceanic or
Polynesian race.

It is, however, quite possible, and perhaps probable, that the brown
Polynesians were originally the produce of a mixture of Malays, or
some lighter coloured Mongol race with the dark Papuans; but if so,
the intermingling took place at such a remote epoch, and has been
so assisted by the continued influence of physical conditions and of
natural selection, leading to the preservation of a special type suited
to those conditions, that it has become a fixed and stable race with no
signs of mongrelism, and showing such a decided preponderance of Papuan
character, that it can best be classified as a modification of the
Papuan type. The occurrence of a decided Malay element in the Polynesian
languages, has evidently nothing to do with any such ancient physical
connexion. It is altogether a recent phenomenon, originating in the
roaming habits of the chief Malay tribes; and this is proved by the fact
that we find actual modern words of the Malay and Javanese languages in
use in Polynesia, so little disguised by peculiarities of pronunciation
as to be easily recognisable--not mere Malay roots only to be detected
by the elaborate researches of the philologist, as would certainly have
been the case had their introduction been as remote as the origin of
a very distinct race--a race as different from the Malay in mental and
moral, as it is in physical characters.

As bearing upon this question it is important to point out the harmony
which exists, between the line of separation of the human races of the
Archipelago and that of the animal productions of the same country,
which I have already so fully explained and illustrated. The dividing
lines do not, it is true, exactly agree; but I think it is a remarkable
fact, and something more than a mere coincidence, that they should
traverse the same district and approach each other so closely as they
do. If, however, I am right in my supposition that the region where the
dividing line of the Indo-Malayan and Austro-Malayan regions of zoology
can now be drawn, was formerly occupied by a much wider sea than at
present, and if man existed on the earth at that period, we shall see
good reason why the races inhabiting the Asiatic and Pacific areas
should now meet and partially intermingle in the vicinity of that
dividing line.

It has recently been maintained by Professor Huxley, that the Papuans
are more closely allied to the negroes of Africa than to any other race.
The resemblance both in physical and mental characteristics had often
struck myself, but the difficulties in the way of accepting it as
probable or possible, have hitherto prevented me front giving full
weight to those resemblances. Geographical, zoological, and ethnological
considerations render it almost certain, that if these two races ever
had a common origin, it could only have been at a period far more remote
than any which has yet been assigned to the antiquity of the human race.
And even if their lenity could be proved, it would in no way affect my
argument for the close affinity of the Papuan and Polynesian races, and
the radical distinctness of both from the Malay.

Polynesia is pre-eminently an area of subsidence, and its great
widespread groups of coral-reefs mark out the position of former
continents and islands. The rich and varied, yet strangely isolated
productions of Australia and New Guinea, also indicate an extensive
continent where such specialized forms were developed. The races of
men now inhabiting these countries are, therefore, most probably the
descendants of the races which inhabited these continents and islands.
This is the most simple and natural supposition to make. And if we find
any signs of direct affinity between the inhabitants of any other part
of the world and those of Polynesia, it by no means follows that the
latter were derived from the former. For as, when a Pacific continent
existed, the whole geography of the earth's surface would probably be
very different from what it now is, the present continents may not then
have risen above the ocean, and, when they were formed at a subsequent
epoch, may have derived some of their inhabitants from the Polynesian
area itself. It is undoubtedly true that there are proofs of extensive
migrations among the Pacific islands, which have led to community of
language from the sandwich group to New Zealand; but there are no proofs
whatever of recent migration from any surrounding country to Polynesia,
since there is no people to be found elsewhere sufficiently resembling
the Polynesian race in their chief physical and mental characteristics.

If the past history of these varied races is obscure and uncertain,
the future is no less so. The true Polynesians, inhabiting the farthest
isles of the Pacific, are no doubt doomed to an early extinction.
But the more numerous Malay race seems well adapted to survive as the
cultivator of the soil, even when his country and government have passed
into the hands of Europeans. If the tide of colonization should be
turned to New Guinea, there can be little doubt of the early extinction
of the Papuan race. A warlike and energetic people, who will not submit
to national slavery or to domestic servitude, must disappear before the
white man as surely as do the wolf and the tiger.

I have now concluded my task. I have given, in more or less detail,
a sketch of my eight years' wanderings among the largest and the most
luxuriant islands which adorn our earth's surface. I have endeavoured to
convey my impressions of their scenery, their vegetation, their animal
productions, and their human inhabitants. I have dwelt at some length on
the varied and interesting problems they offer to the student of nature.
Before bidding my reader farewell, I wish to make a few observations
on a subject of yet higher interest and deeper importance, which the
contemplation of savage life has suggested, and on which I believe that
the civilized can learn something from the savage man.

We most of us believe that we, the higher races have progressed and
are progressing. If so, there must be some state of perfection, some
ultimate goal, which we may never reach, but to which all true progress
must bring nearer. What is this ideally perfect social state towards
which mankind ever has been, and still is tending? Our best thinkers
maintain, that it is a state of individual freedom and self-government,
rendered possible by the equal development and just balance of the
intellectual, moral, and physical parts of our nature,--a state in which
we shall each be so perfectly fitted for a social existence, by knowing
what is right, and at the same time feeling an irresistible impulse to
do what we know to be right., that all laws and all punishments shall
be unnecessary. In such a state every man would have a sufficiently
well-balanced intellectual organization, to understand the moral law in
all its details, and would require no other motive but the free impulses
of his own nature to obey that law.

Now it is very remarkable, that among people in a very low stage of
civilization, we find some approach to such a perfect social state. I
have lived with communities of savages in South America and in the East,
who have no laws or law courts but the public opinion of the village
freely expressed. Each man scrupulously respects the rights of his
fellow, and any infraction of those rights rarely or never takes place.
In such a community, all are nearly equal. There are cone of those wide
distinctions, of education and ignorance, wealth and poverty, master
and servant, which are the product of our civilization; there is none of
that wide-spread division of labour, which, while it increases
wealth, products also conflicting interests; there is not that severe
competition and struggle for existence, or for wealth, which the dense
population of civilized countries inevitably creates. All incitements to
great crimes are thus wanting, and petty ones are repressed, partly by
the influence of public opinion, but chiefly by that natural sense of
justice and of his neighbour's right, which seems to be, in some degree,
inherent in every race of man.

Now, although we have progressed vastly beyond the savage state in
intellectual achievements, we have not advanced equally in morals. It
is true that among those classes who have no wants that cannot be easily
supplied, and among whom public opinion has great influence; the rights
of others are fully respected. It is true, also, that we have vastly
extended the sphere of those rights, and include within them all the
brotherhood of man. But it is not too much to say, that the mass of our
populations have not at all advanced beyond the savage code of morals,
and have in many cases sunk below it. A deficient morality is the
great blot of modern civilization, and the greatest hindrance to true
progress.

During the last century, and especially in the last thirty years, our
intellectual and material advancement has been too quickly achieved for
us to reap the full benefit of it. Our mastery over the forces of mature
has led to a rapid growth of population, and a vast accumulation of
wealth; but these have brought with them such au amount of poverty and
crime, and have fostered the growth of so much sordid feeling and so
many fierce passions, that it may well be questioned, whether the mental
and moral status of our population has not on the average been lowered,
and whether the evil has not overbalanced the good. Compared with our
wondrous progress in physical science and its practical applications,
our system of government, of administering justice, of national
education, and our whole social and moral organization, remains in a
state of barbarism. [See note next page.] And if we continue to devote
our chief energies to the utilizing of our knowledge the laws of nature
with the view of still further extending our commerce and our wealth,
the evils which necessarily accompany these when too eagerly pursued,
may increase to such gigantic dimensions as to be beyond our power to
alleviate.

We should now clearly recognise the fact, that the wealth and knowledge
and culture of the few do not constitute civilization, and do not of
themselves advance us towards the "perfect social state." Our vast
manufacturing system, our gigantic commerce, our crowded towns and
cities, support and continually renew a mass of human misery and
crime absolutely greater than has ever existed before. They create and
maintain in life-long labour an ever-increasing army, whose lot is the
more hard to bear, by contrast with the pleasures, the comforts, and the
luxury which they see everywhere around them, but which they can never
hope to enjoy; and who, in this respect, are worse off than the savage
in the midst of his tribe.

This is not a result to boast of, or to be satisfied with; and,
until there is a more general recognition of this failure of our
civilization--resulting mainly from our neglect to train and develop
more thoroughly the sympathetic feelings and moral faculties of
our nature, and to allow them a larger share of influence in our
legislation, our commerce, and our whole social organization--we shall
never, as regards the whole community, attain to any real or important
superiority over the better class of savages.

This is the lesson I have been taught by my observations of uncivilized
man. I now bid my readers--Farewell!


NOTE.

THOSE who believe that our social condition approaches perfection, will
think the above word harsh and exaggerated, but it seems to me the only
word that can be truly applied to us. We are the richest country in the
world, and yet cue-twentieth of our population are parish paupers, and
one-thirtieth known criminals. Add to these, the criminals who escape
detection; and the poor who live mainly on private charity, (which,
according to Dr. Hawkesley, expends seven millions sterling annually
is London alone,) and we may be sure that more than ONE-TENTH of our
population are actually Paupers and Criminals. Both these classes we
keep idle or at unproductive labour, and each criminal costs us annually
in our prisons more than the wages of an honest agricultural labourer.
We allow over a hundred thousand persons known to have no means
of subsistence but by crime, to remain at large and prey upon the
community, and many thousand children to grow up before our eyes in
ignorance and vice, to supply trained criminals for the next generation.
This, in a country which boasts of its rapid increase in wealth, of its
enormous commerce and gigantic manufactures, of its mechanical skill
and scientific knowledge, of its high civilization and its pure
Christianity,--I can but term a state of social barbarism. We also boast
of our love of justice, and that the law protects rich and poor alike,
yet we retain money fines as a punishment, and make the very first
steps to obtain justice a matter of expense--in both cases a barbarous
injustice, or denial of justice to the poor. Again, our laws render it
possible, that, by mere neglect of a legal form, and contrary to his own
wish and intention, a man's property may all go to a stranger, and his
own children be left destitute. Such cases have happened through the
operation of the laws of inheritance of landed property; and that such
unnatural injustice is possible among us, shows that we are in a state
of social barbarism. One more example to justify my use of the term, and
I have done. We permit absolute possession of the soil of our country,
with no legal rights of existence on the soil, to the vast majority
who do not possess it. A great landholder may legally convert his whole
property into a forest or a hunting-ground, and expel every human being
who has hitherto lived upon it. In a thickly-populated country like
England, where every acre has its owner and its occupier, this is a
power of legally destroying his fellow-creatures; and that such a
power should exist, and be exercised by individuals, in however small a
degree, indicates that, as regards true social science, we are still in
a state of barbarism.





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