A clear sunset gave a good promise of an unusually pleasant night, and the stars twinkled brightly as the evening came on, but the dull vibrations of the tifa and the continual crashings of the gongs, with now and then a wild, prolonged shout from one of the oarsmen, and a similar chorus from the others, kept me awake till late in the night. Finally, just as a troubled sleep was creeping over me, there was a sudden shout from every native, and our round-bottomed prau gave a frightful lurch, first to starboard and then to larboard. All was confusion and uproar, and my first waking thought was that we must have run into the back of some sea-monster, and that, perhaps, the sea-serpent was no myth after all, for when only such savages are seen on the land for men, it is not unreasonable that hideous, antediluvian monsters must be twisting their long, snaky forms beneath in the deep, dark ocean. After awhile the danger was explained: we had struck on a coral reef, though we were at least half a mile from the shore. This indicates the width, at this place, of the platform of coral which encircles the whole island. The heavy swell which had scarcely affected the boat while afloat now made her roll almost over the moment her keel touched the rock. Such rough, projecting coral reefs are very dangerous to the best boats, for in a few moments they will frequently grind a hole through her planks, and immediately she sinks in the surf, while those on board find themselves far from the shore. Pushing off, we stood directly eastward to Saparua, four miles distant, and at half-past three entered a small bay, and were at the kampong Haria. This island has quite the form of the letter H, being nearly divided into two equal parts by a deep bay on the south side and another on the north. The length of the western peninsula, which is a little longer than that of the eastern, is two and a quarter geographical miles, and the narrow isthmus which connects them is about a mile wide. The peninsulas are very mountainous, the highest peaks rising fifteen hundred feet above the sea, but the isthmus is composed of low hills, and is mostly an open prairie. The whole area of the island is ten square geographical miles. Its population numbers more than eleven thousand, making it the most densely peopled of all the islands that now produce cloves. Along its shores are no less than sixteen villages, mostly on the two bays. Of these only three are Mohammedan, the others are Christian. In 1817, when the English restored these islands to the Dutch, a great rebellion broke out in this island, which it took nearly two years to quell, and, what is remarkable, the leaders of this revolt were Christians, that is, members of the Dutch Church.
From Haria we crossed the southern peninsula to the chief town, also called Saparua, at the head of the southern bay. Unlike the narrow footpaths on the island of Amboina, the roads here are broad enough for carts, though none are used, and besides, at the end of every paal from the chief village a small square pillar is set up, indicating the distance from the Resident’s house, and the year it was erected. At Saparua, my merchant-friend gave me a nice room, and the Resident, who received me in the politest manner, said he was just planning a tour of inspection to Nusalaut, the most eastern island of the group, and would be happy to have me accompany him, an invitation I most gladly accepted, for the natives had described it to me as abounding in the most beautiful shells, and already I possessed a few rare species that had passed from one native to another until they reached me at Amboina. He also showed me some choice shells that had been sent to him as presents by the various rajahs. Two were magnificent specimens of that costly wentletrap, the Scalaria preciosa, for which large sums were once paid in Europe. It was the only kind of shell which I saw or heard of during my long travels among these islands, of which I failed to obtain, at least, one good specimen. He also had many very fine map-cowries, which the natives everywhere regard as rare shells.
That evening the commandant of the “schuterij,” or native militia, was to celebrate his birthday by giving a ball at the ruma négri. I attended, as a matter of politeness, but not being able to dance myself, withdrew when they had finished the first waltz, for the anticipation of a ramble along the neighboring shores on the morrow would have had a far greater fascination to me than whirling until I was giddy, half embraced in the arms of one of those dark belles, even if I had understood how to take all their odd steps with due grace. The passion of these people for dancing appears to be insatiable, for at eight o’clock the next morning a good proportion of them were still whirling round and round with as much spirit as if the fête had just begun. As might naturally be expected, these natives abhor all application and labor, in the same degree that they are fond of excitement.
Saparua Bay is one of the most beautiful inlets of the sea. Near its head is a bold, projecting bluff, and on this rise the white walls of Fort Duurstede. The other parts of the shore form a semicircular, sandy beach, which is bordered with such a thick grove of cocoa-nut palms that no one looking from the bay would imagine that they concealed hundreds of native houses. Here myriads of flat sea-urchins, Clypeastridæ, almost covered the flats near low-water level, and completely buried themselves in the calcareous sand as the tide left them. Thousands of little star-fish were also found in the same locality, hiding themselves in a similar manner. Higher up the beach among the algæ were many larger star-fishes, with the usual five rays; but, as sometimes happens among these low animals, one specimen was provided with one arm more than his companions, and could boast of six. Where ledges of coral rock rose out of the water, countless numbers of the little money cowry, Cypræa moneta, filled the excavations formed in this soft rock. They are seldom collected here, as they are too small to be used for food, and these natives never use them as a medium of exchange, as has been the custom from the earliest ages in India.
August 17th.—At 5 A. M. started with the Resident for Nusalaut. Our party included the doctor stationed with the garrison, the commandant of militia, whose birthday had been so faithfully observed the day before, my merchant-friend, the “stuurman,” or captain, and last, and perhaps I should add least, a little mestizo scribe, whose proper title was “the commissie.” A strong head wind, with frequent squalls of rain, made our progress slow till we reached a high point which the natives called Tanjong O, the Headland O. From that point over to Nusalaut was a distance of some two miles. As we left the shore, and pushed out into the open sea, our progress became still slower. Inch by inch we gained till we were half-way across, when the wind freshened, and for a time we could scarcely hold our own, despite the increased jargon from the tifa and the gong, and a wilder whooping from every native, varied by mutterings from each, to the effect that he was the only one who was really working. Almost the moment these people meet with any unexpected difficulty they become disheartened, and want to give up their task at once, exactly like little children.
Nusalaut, like the other Uliassers, is completely surrounded by a shallow platform of coral, which is mostly bare at low water. We therefore entered a small bay, where the deep water would allow our boat to come near the shore. Coolies now waded off with chairs on their shoulders, and landed us dry-footed on the beach, where were a dozen natives, clad in what is supposed to have been the war-costume of their ancestors long before the arrival of Europeans. They were quite naked, and carried in their right hands large cleavers or swords (some of which I noticed were made of wood). On the left arm was a narrow shield about four feet long, and evidently more for show than use, as it was only three or four inches wide in the middle. On the head was a kind of crown, and, as long plumes are scarce, sticks were covered with white hen-feathers, and stuck in as a substitute. From their shoulders and elbows hung strips of bright-red calico, to make them look gay or fierce (it was difficult to say which). Their war-dance consisted in springing forward and backward, and whirling rapidly round. Forming in two lines, they fiercely brandished their swords, as we advanced between them to a little elevation, where all the rajahs had gathered to receive the Resident.
Nusalaut is oblong in form, less than two miles in length, and in some places only half a mile wide. Its area, therefore, is somewhat less than a single square mile. Its surface is hilly, but the highest point is not more than three hundred meters above the sea, A century and a half ago its population numbered five thousand, but at present it is only three thousand five hundred. The number of villages, and, consequently, of rajahs, is only seven. We first visited Sila, the one nearest our landing. As we entered the kampong, we found the main street ornamented in a most tasteful manner. The young, light-yellow leaves of the cocoa-nut palm had been split in two, and were bent into bows or arcs with the midrib uppermost, and the leaflets hanging beneath. These bows were placed on the top of the fence, so as to form a continued series of arches; a simple arrangement that certainly produced a most charming effect. As we passed along, scores of heavily-loaded flint-locks were discharged in our honor, and these mimic warriors continued their peculiar evolutions. From Sila a short walk brought us to Lainitu, and here our reception took a new phase. In front of the rajah’s house was a wide triumphal arch, made of boards, and ornamented with two furious red lions, who held up a shield containing a welcome to the Resident. But just before we passed under that, the crowd in front parted, and lo, before us stood eighteen or twenty young girls, who had been selected from the whole village for their beauty. They were all arrayed in their costliest dresses, which consisted of a bright-red sarong and a low kabaya, over which was another of lace, the latter bespangled with many thin pieces of silver. Their long, black hair was combed backward, and fastened in a knot behind, and in this were stuck many long flexible silver pins, that rapidly vibrated as they danced. Most of them had a narrow strip of the hair over the forehead clipped short, but not shaven, a most unsightly custom, and perhaps originally designed to make their foreheads higher. Their lips were stained to a dull brick-red from constantly indulging in the use of the betel. They were arranged in two rows, and their dance, the minari, was nothing more than slowly twisting their body to the right and left, and, at the same time, moving the extended arms and open hands in circles in opposite directions. The only motion of their naked feet was to change the weight of the body from the heel to the toe, and vice versa. During the dance they sang a low, plaintive song, which was accompanied by a tifa and a number of small gongs, suspended by means of a cord in a framework of gaba-gaba, the dried midribs of palm-leaves. The gongs increased regularly in size from one of five or six inches to one of a foot or fifteen inches in diameter. Each had a round knob or boss in the middle, which was struck with a small stick. When made to reverberate in this manner, their music was very agreeable, and resembled closely that made by small bells. Several gentlemen informed me that this instrument was introduced here from Java by natives of these islands, who were taken there by the Dutch to assist in putting down a rebellion. It is merely a rude copy of the instrument called the bonang or kromo in Java. The number of gongs composing this instrument varies from six or eight to fourteen. In Java the sticks used in striking the gongs, instead of being made only of wood, are carefully covered with a coating of gum to make the sound softer. Another common instrument in Java is the gambang, consisting of wooden or brass bars of different lengths, placed crosswise over a wooden trough. These are struck with small sticks composed of a handle and a round ball of some light substance like pith, as shown in the accompanying photograph of a Javanese and his wife. The instrument in the left hand is a kind of flute, and that in his right is a triangle exactly like those used in negro concerts in our land.
MUSICAL INSTRUMENTS USED BY THE MALAYS AT BATAVIA.