Travels in the East Indian archipelago

by Albert S. Bickmore

CHAPTER VI.
THE ULIASSERS AND CERAM.

The arrival of the mail here, at Amboina, causes a general rejoicing. Indeed, it is the only thing there is to break the dull monotony of a residence in this enervating climate, unless, as happened this month, there is an earthquake, which affords a grand opportunity for the old residents to describe to all newcomers the fearful shocks they have experienced, and this they invariably do with that peculiar kind of semi-boasting with which a veteran fights over his battles in the presence of raw recruits. The last earthquake, which everybody witnessed, is referred to very much as we at home speak of some violent gale that has swept along the coast. Those who would be weather-wise in our land here discuss the various directions from which the different shocks came—upon which there seems a considerable variance of opinion, but I notice that generally each company agrees with the highest dignitary present. This was a fortunate mail for me. It brought me letters from home, and many American papers from our consul at Batavia, who never failed to send me the latest news all the time I was in any part of the archipelago. Before the next mail my letters were read and re-read. The pages of the Boston papers seemed like the faces of familiar friends, and it was difficult not to peruse the advertisements, column by column, before I could lay them aside. I, in turn, was able to write my friends that already I possessed a full series of nearly all the species of shells I had come to seek.

East of Amboina lie three islands, sometimes called the “Uliassers.” The first and nearest to Amboina is Haruku (in Dutch Haroekoe); it is also known to the natives as Oma, or Buwang-bessi, “Ejecting-iron.” The second is Saparua (in Dutch Saparoea); but according to Mr. Crawfurd it should be Sapurwa, or Sapurba, from the native numeral Sa standing as an article, and the Sanscrit, purwa, “source,” a name probably given it by the Malay and Javanese traders, who came here to buy cloves long before the Portuguese reached such a remote region, and this is made more probable by the name of the third island Nusalaut (in Dutch Noesalaoet), which is compounded of the Javanese word nusa, “an island,” and the Malay word laut, “the sea.” Nusalaut, therefore, means Sea Island, and was evidently so named because it is situated more nearly in the open sea. The Javanese word nusa, which is applied, like the Malay word pulo, only to small islands, enables us to trace out the early course of the Javanese traders. At the southern end of Laitimur is a kampong named Nusaniva (niba), “Fallen Island,” perhaps because some island, or a part of Amboina itself, had sunk in that vicinity. Near the Banda group is Nusatelo (better taluh), “Magic Island.” Saparua is also known to the natives as Honimoa, and Liaser, whence probably the old name Uliassers, for this is the most important of the three islands, and would naturally give its name to the whole group. A merchant from Saparua, the chief place on the island of that name, was then visiting Amboina, and kindly invited me to accompany him when he should return—an invitation I was most happy to accept, for Rumphius received many shells from these islands, and I anticipated obtaining some species alive, of which I possessed only shells. A heavy storm delayed us for a week, a frequent occurrence during the southeast monsoon. From Amboina we followed my former route to Tulahu, which we reached at evening, the usual time for commencing a voyage in these seas at this time of year, because the wind generally moderates after sunset, and freshens again the next morning soon after sunrise. We embarked at once on a large prau, manned by eighteen natives of Saparua, and readily distinguished from the people of Amboina by the peculiar custom of clipping the hair short all over the head, except a narrow band along the forehead, which is allowed to hang down over the face, and gives them a remarkably clownish appearance. One of these men, who was coxswain or captain, steered with a large paddle; two others were detailed to keep up the continual, monotonous din, and which these people consider music, and the others rowed. Our musical instruments were a huge tifa, that gave out a dull, heavy sound, such as would be caused by beating a hollow log, and not the sharp, quick rap of a drum, which, however monotonous, still has something stirring and lively in it; and two gongs, imported from China, and just harsh and discordant enough to please the musical tympanums of the stupid Celestials. The tifa is beat with a piece of wood of any shape held loosely in the right hand, while the left hand raises the note by pressing against the edge of the vibrating skin. There is, therefore, no such thing as a long roll or a short roll, but one unvaried beating. The two gongs were of different sizes, and were struck alternately, but this was so slight a change that it only made the monotony more wearisome. Each rower had a small wooden box, about a foot long, four inches high, and six wide, where he carried the all-important betel-nut, siri, lime, and tobacco. It also served as a chest for his extra clothing.

PINANG, OR BETEL-NUT PALM.

The betel-nut is the fruit of a tall, slender, and extremely graceful palm, the Areca catechu. The trunk is usually from six to eight inches only in diameter, but the sheaf of green leaves that springs out of its top is thirty or forty feet from the ground. Of all the beautiful palms, this is decidedly the most fascinating to me. Near the house in which I lived, at Batavia, there was a long avenue of these graceful trees, and there in the bright mornings, and cool evenings, I was accustomed to saunter to and fro, and each time it seemed that they were more charming than ever before. This tree grows over all tropical India, and the whole archipelago, including the Philippines. Its Malay name is pinang, hence Pulo Pinang is the Betel-nut Island. In nearly all the large islands it has a different name, an indication that it is indigenous. In Javanese it is called jambi, and a region on the north coast of Sumatra, where it is very abundant, has therefore received that name. In favorable situations this tree begins to bear when it is six years old, and generally yields about a hundred nuts in a loose, conical cluster. Each nut, when ripe, is about as large as a pullet’s egg, and of a bright, ochreous yellow. This yellow skin encloses a husk, the analogue of the thick husk of the cocoa-nut. Within this is a small spherical nut, closely resembling a nutmeg, but very hard and tough, except when taken directly from the tree. It is chewed with a green leaf of the siri, Piper betel, which is raised only for this purpose, and such great quantities of it are consumed in this way, that large plantations are seen in Java solely devoted to its culture. The mode of preparing this morsel for use is very simple: a small quantity of lime as large as a pea is placed on a piece of the nut, and enclosed in a leaf of siri. The roll is taken between the thumb and forefinger, and rubbed violently against the front gums, while the teeth are closed firmly, and the lips opened widely. It is now chewed for a moment, and then held between the teeth and lips, so as to partly protrude from the mouth. A profusion of red brick-colored saliva now pours out of each corner of the mouth while the man is exerting himself at his oar, or hurrying along under a heavy load. When he is rich enough to enjoy tobacco, a small piece of that luxury is held with the siri between the lips and teeth. The leaf of the tobacco is cut so fine that it exactly resembles the “fine cut” of civilized lands; and long threads of the fibrous, oakum-like substance are always seen hanging out of the mouths of the natives, and completing their disgusting appearance. This revolting habit prevails not only among the men, but also among the women, and whenever a number come together to gossip, as in other countries, a box containing the necessary articles is always seen near by, and a tall, urn-shaped spit-box of brass is either in the midst of the circle or passing from one to another, that each may free her mouth from surplus saliva. Whenever one native calls on another, or a stranger is received from abroad, invariably the first article that is offered him is the siri-box.

From Tulahu we crossed a strait about half a mile broad, and came under the lee of the north side of Haruku, an oblong island, with a long point on the east and southwest. Its extreme length is about two and a quarter geographical miles, its greatest width one and a quarter, and its entire area eight square geographical miles. The surface abounds in hills, but the highest is not a thousand feet above the sea. Its population is upward of seven thousand, and is distributed in eleven villages, and about evenly divided between Christianity and Mohammedanism. Its geological structure is probably like the neighboring parts of Laitimur. It is quite surrounded by a platform of coral, which must be bare in some places at low water. We kept near the shore, so that I could look down deep into the clear water, and distinctly see many round massive heads of brain-coral, Meandrina, and other beautiful branching forms, Astrea, hundreds of massive and tubular sponges, and broad sea-fans, Gorgonias, as we glided over these miniature forests and wide gardens beneath the sea.

AFTER THE BATH.