We then took a delightful walk through the adjoining forest of waringin-trees and cocoa-nut and betel-nut palms, and again and again I wished I could have photographic views of the scenery around us to show to my friends, for words utterly fail to convey any idea of the rich grouping of the palms and shrubbery, and festooning vines about us, as the setting sun shot into the luxuriant foliage long, horizontal pencils of golden light.
Here we found the coffee-tree growing wild, and near by we came to the tomb of a rich native merchant. It was a low, square building, surmounted by a dome, and the whole enclosed by a wall about two feet high, whose outer surface was covered with blue plates of porcelain. As we approached, a monotonous, nasal chanting greeted our ears. It was made by a native priest, who was repeating long prayers from the Koran, by the grave of his departed friends. The notes of his minor, melancholy chant echoed and reëchoed widely through the quiet forest, and were the more impressive because they seemed to come from the abode of the dead. He invited us in, and showed us his books, which were written by hand, and yet all the characters were as neat and regular as copperplate. In the grounds was a papaw-tree with a branch which bore at its summit leaves and fruit like the parent stem.
On the 20th of June we sailed for Kupang, a port near the southern end of the island of Timur. The southern extremity of the southwestern peninsula of Celebes is low, with mountains of moderate height rising in the interior. As we steamed past it on our way southward to Sapi Strait, between Sumbawa on one side and Commodo and Floris[19] on the other, we found that the eastern monsoon had already freshened to a strong breeze, but it was steady, and the sky and sea reminded one of “the trades.” Many flying-fish sprang out of the sea, as if too happy to remain in their more proper element.
On the second morning from Macassar, Gunong Api, “The Burning Mountain,” rose up majestically before us. Its high top, five thousand eight hundred feet above the level of the sea, was hidden by horizontal clouds, strati, which parted while we were observing the mountain, and let down a band of bright sunlight over its dark sides. It is not a single but a double peak—the one to the northwest appearing from the deep valleys and ravines in its sides to be the older. On the eastern flanks of this peak, near the shore, there appears to be an old crater, whose outer wall has been washed away by the sea. For one-third of the distance from the shore to the top of this peak there is some shrubbery in the bottoms of the deep ravines; but the remaining two-thirds are quite bare. At its top, this mountain ends in a small truncated cone. The southwestern peak seems to have recently formed, for, from its top down to the shore, on the southeast side, there is one continuous sheet of fine volcanic materials, scored only by narrow grooves with perpendicular sides. When viewed in profile, the unbroken sweep of its sides, from its summit to the sea, was most majestic. It was so regular, that it was difficult to believe it had not been shaped by the hand of man. By this time we were in the midst of the strait between Sumbawa and Commodo, and soon we passed on the left hand Gillibanta, whose highest point is only twelve hundred feet above the sea. Its name in Javanese means the “one that disputes the way.” It is merely the remnant of an old crater, whose northwestern wall has disappeared beneath the sea. The southerly dip of the successive overflows of lava was plainly to be seen.
On our right was Sumbawa, with its high mountains, and near its southeastern end is Sapi, or Cattle Bay, which gives its name to the strait. In a peninsula on the northern side of this island is Mount Tomboro, which suffered such a terrible eruption, and caused so much destruction of human life, in 1815. The first intimation that the people of Java received of this frightful phenomenon was a series of explosions, so closely resembling the reports of cannon, that at Jokyokarta, in Java, a distance of four hundred and eighty miles, troops were marched toward a neighboring post that was supposed to have been attacked. At Surabaya, gunboats were sent out to assist ships that were thought to be trying to defend themselves against pirates in the Madura Strait; and at two places on the coast, boats put off to search for ships that were imagined to be in distress. These reports occurred on the 5th of April, and continued for five days, when the sky over the eastern part of Java began to be darkened by falling ashes, and for four days they could not see the sun. Mr. Crawfurd says that at Surabaya the sky for several months did not become as clear as it usually is in the southeast monsoon. Northward from Sumbawa the reports accompanying this eruption were heard as far as the island of Ternate, near Gilolo, a distance of seven hundred and twenty geographical miles, and so distinctly, that the Resident sent out a boat to look for the ship which was supposed to have been firing signals. To the westward these reports were heard at Mokomoko, a post near Bencoolen, which is no less than nine hundred and seventy geographical miles in a right line—as far as from New York to the Keys off the southern extremity of Florida. The ashes that were poured into the air during this eruption fell to the eastward, or against the prevailing wind, as far as the middle of Floris, about two hundred and ten geographical miles; and westward on Java, in the mountains of Cheribon, about two hundred and seventy miles from the volcano. So great was the quantity of ashes thrown out at this time, that it is estimated that on the island of Lombok, about ninety miles distant, forty-four thousand persons perished in the famine that followed. Dr. Junghuhn thinks that, within a circle described by a radius of two hundred and ten miles, the average depth of the ashes was at least two feet; this mountain, therefore, must have ejected several times its own mass, and yet no subsidence has been noticed in the adjoining area, and the only change that has been observed is, that during the eruption Tomboro lost two-thirds of its previous height.[20] The captain of a ship dispatched from Macassar to the scene of this terrible phenomenon states: “On approaching the coast, I passed through great quantities of pumice-stone floating on the sea, which had at first the appearance of shoals, so much so that I sent a boat to examine one, which, at the distance of less than a mile, I took for a dry sand-bank, upward of three miles in length, with black rocks in several parts of it.” This is the kind of stones I saw floating over the sea as we were approaching the Strait of Sunda. Besides the quantities of this porous, foam-like lava, that are thrown directly into the sea by such eruptions, great quantities remain on the sides of the volcano, and on the surrounding mountains, and much of that is conveyed, during the rainy monsoon, by the rivers to the ocean. The land at the southeast extremity of Sumbawa appears to be composed of a light-colored clay, the strata of which have been greatly plicated.
Several ugly rocks rise in this strait. The largest is named, in the native tongue, “The Eye of the Devil,” and it winked at us most wickedly out of the white surf as we passed. While in the Java Sea, before entering the strait, we had only light winds; but, as we came into the Indian Ocean, we experienced a strong breeze from the southeast. The current, which had been with us and against the wind, was met off the southwest promontory of Floris by a current with the wind from the east, and at once the sea rose up into pyramidal masses, or formed waves that rolled over and broke against the wind, like those from the windward quarter of a ship which is sailing “on a wind.” High mountains also line the Commodo and Floris side, but the scenery became especially grand as we rounded the southwest promontory of the latter island. It reminded me of the pictures of the precipitous coast of Scotland, except that, while those rocks are all bare, these are all covered with the trailing plants that have gained a foothold in the crevices of these precipices. Floris is also called Endé, from the principal port of that name on its southern coast. The trade of this place is mostly with Sandal-wood Island. It is also called Mangerai, the name of the chief place on its northern shore. The people of the latter port trade mostly with the Bugis and Malays. In the coves and bays on the northern coast near this strait many pirates formerly took shelter. They were merely Malays or Bugis from Bali, Sumbawa, or Celebes. In the interior there is a people whose hair is frizzled. A similar one also live in the interior and mountainous part of Solor, Pintar, Lombata, and Ombay. Those living on the sea-coast belong to the brown or Malay race. On the south coast there is a tribe called Rakka, who are reported to be the worst kind of cannibals, accustomed not only to devour their enemies, but the bodies of their deceased relatives.
At sunset we could just discern the outline of Sumba or Sandal-wood Island. It appeared uniformly high, as it has always been described. Mr. Jukes passed near its southeast point, while on a voyage in her Britannic Majesty’s ship Fly from northern Australia to Surabaya. He describes it as composed of ranges of hills that rise immediately from the sea to a height of two thousand feet. The strata of these hills are nearly level, and appeared to be composed of comminuted coral. This would indicate that the island had undergone a great elevation during the later tertiary period. It is probably composed mostly of volcanic rocks, like the adjacent islands. Its area is about four thousand geographical square miles. The most frequented harbor is near the middle of the northern shore. Vessels go there from Surabaya, in the latter part of the western monsoon, to purchase the active little ponies peculiar to this island, and return in the beginning of the eastern monsoon, after having remained there about three months. These horses are considered more valuable than those from any other part of the archipelago, except the Batta lands, in the interior of Sumatra. When a ship arrives, her crew at once scatter over the whole island, visiting all the various campongs, or villages, to make their purchases. A Dutch officer, who has travelled over the island, informs me that these people have quite different features from the natives of the adjoining island of Savu, especially the females, whose faces are much broader. They are said to have a peculiar language, and to be a separate nation; but I judge from all I could learn that they form merely a subdivision of the Malay family. The captain of an American whale-ship, which was wrecked on one of the southern points, complained to me that the natives stole every thing he brought on shore, and threatened him and his crew with violence; but I think it was only because he could not speak Malay, and because each party misunderstood the intentions of the other.
At noon the next day we saw the lofty peak of Mount Romba rising up on Floris. It is said to be only seven thousand feet in height, but it appeared to us as high as Mount Slamat in Java. At the eastern end of the island, opposite Adenara and Solor, is a small Portuguese settlement, called Laruntuka. The extreme length of the island is about two hundred geographical miles, and its area a fraction larger than Sandal-wood Island. It yields much sandal-wood, and the natives state that copper is found there, but gold and iron are not known to occur. While in this part of the Indian Ocean, generally in the morning, we had strong breezes from the southeast, which moderated at noon, and increased again at sunset. They varied considerably in the hour they began, and in their strength and duration, and were quite unlike the steady trades.
At 2 P. M., on our third day from Macassar, we sighted the island of Semao, off the bay of Kupang. Its northern end is only a rock, sparsely covered with trees. It has no mountains, and most of its beaches are composed of coral sand.